


i wish you’d live as if you were made of glass

by NyxKvistad



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Codependency, Developing Relationship, Disorder Eating, Established Relationship, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Drama, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, Jealousy, M/M, Past Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Protective Bruce Wayne, Secrets, Slow Build, The Court of Owls Wants A Grayson, Trust Issues, split personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 82,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxKvistad/pseuds/NyxKvistad
Summary: As Bruce and Dick sort out the recent change in their relationship, some sinister secrets will come to the surface that will threaten everything they know.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 144
Kudos: 285





	1. It Started With a Simple Wish

**Author's Note:**

> [x] Canon divergence.  
> [x] By the way, the BruDick content begins in the second chapter.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is focused mostly on Jason for narrative development.  
> Next chapter we get BruDick.

**Gotham.** **March 3, 10:00 EST**

Jason knew that Batman and Robin, the original Robin, used to be a great team. They were made for each other, like a match made in Heaven, or Hell. Everyone knew. Even villains concurred on how good the Dynamic Duo was. Jason had seen it with his eyes, how good they were. Even so, Jason just wasn’t one hundred per cent sure why they had such great chemistry together. Training and years of fighting having each other’s back were the obvious reasons, but Jason knew there was something else that others weren’t looking at. He knew it in his guts, and he was going to do everything that it was required to test his theory.

At first, he thought that the obvious reason was the familiarity between them. It was the logical option. Years of training had paid off. He did his best to meet all the training exercises that Bruce asked him to do. He went as far as taking extra classes of athleticism, gymnastics and archery. He wanted to be a better Robin than Dick was for Batman. Let’s be clear, Jason wasn’t delusional, he knew it was nearly impossible but at least he could try. Jason was a troublemaker, yeah but he wasn’t a loser. He had the determination and will to fight for his position as the best version of Robin that had ever existed.

After one year of studying all the videos he could gather of Batman and the original Robin, he realized that it wasn’t the training. There was no way. He had watched all the videos, following every single move they made. Jason couldn’t help but notice how opposite their fighting styles were. They couldn’t be more different in their approach. Batman was offensive: rough, relied on his strength, he was a brutal force with perfect precision. The Old Bat didn’t make mistakes, it was easy to see how much he had practised his technique. Jason was amazed by Batman, he was a force to be fear.

On the other hand, Robin was a whole different story. For God’s sake, the Golden Boy was an acrobat-artist. He had a defensive style: stylish acrobatic moves, all his strength coming from his core. He was fast and unpredictable. One minute he fooled around with jokes doing wolf jumps, cat leaps, handstands, and then, out of fucking nowhere, Dick could strike you with an uppercut to break your jaw and added a knee strike to make sure you didn’t come back in your feet. The fucking little demon did all of that laughing, he laughed while kicking ass and playing a very annoying acrobat act. Jason had pity on his enemies, how embarrassing was to be defeated by a gremlin.

So no, it wasn’t the training or the style of fighting. His second theory was based on the amount of time both of them used to spend together. According to what Bruce and Alfred had told him, it seemed that the Wonder Boy was like a second shadow to Bruce. There was no story in which Alfred neither Bruce wouldn’t not mention Dick. It was unnerving. Jason had to figure it a way to make up for all the years he hadn’t spent with Bruce. That was supposed to be easy. He liked being around Bruce, he was a solid presence who preferred to listen, instead of talking. Jason was fine with that. He liked talking, and Bruce was one of the first adults that truly listened to Jason. He really did listen. The only thing that troubled him was how much time it could take to spend enough time to make it up for the lost years.

Still, Jason wasn’t sold on the idea that the chemistry Bruce and Dick shared was only about time. He didn’t want to believe it anyway since Dick would always have the upper hand regarding the number of years they had known Bruce. It fucking sucked. Jason could train as hard as Dick, but he couldn’t compete against time.

Ok, so maybe Jason was jealous. Maybe he was being an overdramatic teen vigilante trying to dismiss all the years of training and experience Batman and the original Robin had together. Ok, he was doing that but it wasn’t his fault. He was only overreacting because what Bruce and Dick had, their chemistry, was impossible to match. Jason was going crazy. Time, training and experience, fuck all of that. Jason liked it quick, and he needed a better solution. If he had the opportunity, he would make damn sure to find an instant solution to be the best partner Batman ever had.

Jason envisioned a dark future unless he was able to learn _their_ secret source of chemistry. The whole situation was unfair, he didn’t get how they could be so fucking synchronized, fucking perfectly tied together in the distance. It was like they were able to read each other minds. Did they have a mind reader dispositive that Bruce was hiding from him? How could they live up to the definition of the _dynamic duo_ with such ease? How and why? Why did Jason have to live up to that? There was no way he had what it took to be on the high-level Dick set for his successor to have. Jason had been a disappointment since he was born, and he didn’t know how to stop disappointing people.

That was it, Jason needed a plan. For once in his life, Jason wanted to make things right. He was fixed on his resolve to not fail this time. He was going to succeed, he was going to make Bruce proud of him. This was his best chance to recover all the time he had lost in the past acting out, pretending to be a careless bully and fighting in the streets for nothing.

So yes, Jason had a plan, and Dick was going to help him, even if the original Robin had no idea that he was helping Jason to outdo the older version of Robin.

The plan was simple, it had to work. Jason would _innocently_ invite Dick to spend the summer in Gotham with the purpose of assisting Jason to improve his skills. Bruce would be busy all the summer with Wayne Enterprises, so he would have no other choice but to say yes.

* * *

**Gotham.** **May 4, 15:15 EST**

It was two weeks before summer began, Jason was kind of late to propose his request. However, he thought that it was a better option to make it look like he didn’t plan it ahead.

He caught a busy Bruce, reading and signing business papers, in his home office. It was the perfect moment to talk to Bruce as his father would be distracted enough to miss any mistake Jason made. He couldn’t afford to give away his secret plan. First, he was going to guilt-trip Bruce, then he was going to ask for Dick to come to Gotham, and the rest was still unknown, even to Jason.

Jason knocked on the door before opening it. He poked his head to wave his hand to Bruce. “Dad? Can we talk? It’ll be just a moment, quick-quick.” Jason said with a huge smile on his face.

Bruce hummed something indecipherable with an affirmative nod, inviting Jason to come in, and say whatever he wanted to discuss.

“So… remember you told me that this summer I was going to train alone?” Jason said, “I thought about it and you know I don’t wanna go back to San Francisco-“

“Jason, I won’t insist you come back to the Tower on your own, not after what happened. If you ever… decide to come back, the door is open but I won’t open it for you. It’s your choice, son.” Bruce said interrupting Jason with abruptness.

Something pinched inside Jason’s heart. There he was Bruce caring as Jason was trying to manipulate him into blame. _Fuck, why am I such an asshole? He’s the only who cares for me,_ he thought.

“Well-wow, thanks, dad. I…” Jason tripped on his words, he was a helpless idiot when people showed kindness to him. “You think Dick will train me? Like coming to Gotham for summer break, and IDK, train me… personally? Robin to Robin, you get what I mean?”

Jason felt the heat of his face rise, Bruce was looking right through him with his detective gaze. To be under the scrutiny of the Bat was not for the ones with a faint heart.

“Where is this coming from?” Bruce asked in a low voice. The words almost passed as an inaudible sound to the ears of Jason.

“What? No, I, you know, you do, right? I like Dick, he’s cool, and he has some lit moves. He wasn’t nasty to me anyway, it wasn’t his fault. He tried to talk to me and save me from Deathstroke.” Jason explained with honesty. He wasn’t lying, he didn’t blame Dick for what happened.

Had he exaggerated and told his version of how badly the Titans treated him in the worst light than reality? Yes, but had he blamed what happened to him solely on Dick? Not really, it was one thing to be a dramatic asshole, and another thing to be an ungrateful brat.

“Look I get it, I made it sound as if they were all terrible, but Dick was fine. He was stressed with the Jericho issue. But I like him, so… do you think you can convince him to come and train me during summer so I don’t have to do it alone, please, please?” Jason said.

Jason saw Bruce struggled to find the right words. He appeared to ponder what to do in silence. It took him a few minutes to make his decision, and said: “I’ll talk to him.”

“Is that a yes? He’s coming, right? He was already coming before I asked, am I right?” Jason guessed with cleverness, and Bruce confirmed Jason’s conjecture showing a huge smirk on his face.

Bruce cleared his throat to add “I invited him to visit for a few days during summer, but I’ll ask him to stay longer and train you. Perhaps two months away from San Francisco will do some good for his mental health.”

“Lit, thanks!” Jason looked satisfied with the answer he got from Bruce, “I leave you to do your stuff, sorry I interrupted you.” Jason waved his hand to say goodbye and made his way to exit the room as fast as possible. He was about to close the door when Bruce called him, “Jase?”

“Yeah?” Jason asked, looking back at his adopted father.

“You never interrupt,” Bruce said with a fond smile.

The three words Bruce said, they broke the walls that Jason spent years building up. They were simple words, there was no Shakespearean mastery in their conversation. Nonetheless, Jason had learnt to read between the lines of everything Bruce said. The man was a mystery, cryptic, but there was a raw honesty hiding among the words he spoke.

“Thanks, dad.” Jason managed to say with half of his breathing capacity gone.

* * *

**Gotham.** **May 8, 07:30 EST**

It was a rainy Tuesday morning with Bruce and Jason eating breakfast together. They fell into this routine when Jason asked, ~~begged~~ , Bruce to eat together at least one time per day since eating alone had caused Jason abandonment issues in the past (all his childhood). Bruce, who had a soft spot for him, said yes, only asking him to wake up earlier than usual, so Bruce didn’t have to be late at work.

Everything was going like any other morning until Bruce opened the conversation to talk about Dick. Definitely, the Golden Boy wasn’t Jason’s favourite subject first time in the morning. Whatever, for once it actually made Jason happy to hear about him, since Dick had accepted to stay the whole summer to train him.

Everything was going according to Jason’s plan, _wicked, another one in the basket_ , he thought. He was excited, he even called his strategy: _To decode or not decode the Golden Boy_.

Okay, he was acting like a fool but that was irrelevant. Jason had a goal, or better said, Robin was on a mission, and Robin didn’t fail his assignments. In fact, the Robin persona had a reputation on taking his tasks as serious as Batman did. And Jason was no different than Dick or Batman when it came to missions, he was as invested as they were.

Jason organized his schedule: He put his theatre class on Wednesdays afternoons. Meanwhile, the archery classes had to be three times per week, so he made sure to have all of them in the mornings. In that way, he will have the rest of the day to be with Dick and get his undivided attention. Jason signed for the training, but if there was a way to satisfy his need for attention, he wasn’t going to complain.

As his third action for his plan, he cleared his weekends. The friends he made in Gotham Academy could wait until September to see him. Jason assumed that Bruce was going to drown himself in a ridiculous amount of work during weekdays, as usual. However, Bruce loved his precious Golden Boy, of that Jason, had no doubt. So Bruce probably was going to stay on weekends to spend time with his Wonder Boy and Jason. Did the mere thought of seeing Bruce spending time with Dick hurt Jason? Yes, it did ~~deeply~~. But this wasn’t the time or place for Jason to be a victim of his own jealousy. No, he had to rise above his worst insecurities. He had to make sure to pay full attention to Bruce and Dick interactions, as throughout them Jason would find the answers which would lead him to the hidden source of their chemistry.

Sure Bruce had seen through him already, Jason didn’t doubt that the Old Bat was aware of his _not so secret_ plans. Yet, Bruce didn’t call him out on his bullshit. Instead of shaming him, he asked Jason if he had thought about something specific he wanted Dick to teach him. Likewise, Bruce asked him if he was interested in doing something besides the heavy training.

“Are you sure you want to spend your summer training with Dick in the Batcave?” Bruce asked nonchalantly as he put butter to his bread.

“Yes, why? He doesn’t wanna come?” Jason asked terrified of Dick rejecting him. What if Dick was mad at him for spilling the beans to Bruce about what the Titans and Deathstroke did to him?

“No, as I told you, Dick said yes. While I’m wondering is if you don’t have a head concussion rushing you into a reckless decision?” Bruce said taking his time to serve himself more coffee. “The summer theatre camp is still accepting auditions, I presumed that was more remarkable to your future.” And now Bruce was looking at him with a questioning gaze.

“No, yes, next summer. The theatre isn’t going anywhere.” Jason added in a rush, as he drank more coffee to avoid talking more and busting his own plans.

“Just let me know if you get bored, we could come up with other plans.” Bruce smiled with an all-knowing smirk.

“’ Course, dad.” Jason bit his bottom lip, giving away that he was anxious.

“It’s almost eight o’clock, I have to go, I’ll see you later for patrol,” Bruce added after checking his watch, “if you need something just call me.”

Bruce stood up fast, he was running a little late, he only stopped to kiss Jason’s temple, before leaving in a rush. Jason blushed and hid his face to smile. By then Jason was used to Bruce acting like a normal caring parent, who hugged and kissed his kids. However, Jason was a product of a wrecked abusive home, he didn’t know what to do with himself when he received affection.

He was that touched starved that he almost forgot the all-knowing smirk Bruce had when they talked about Dick and the summer training.

The Bat knew something, and Jason didn’t know what Bruce knew. That was problematic. Especially as Bruce expertly handled Jason with the right amount of consideration. Jason was high on how much Bruce cared for him. It was like a dream come true. On the downside, he was an open book to the Bat’s eyes, and that was scary for someone who had passed all his life lying his way through survival.

Jason felt almost guilty for hiding his true intentions to Bruce. Though he wasn’t doing anything wrong, right? It wasn’t like he was betraying Bruce. No, he only wanted to know Dick’s secret to be so damn perfect for Bruce and Batman.

Still there was some guilt lingering on him. Since the first day, Bruce had been nothing but responsible and caring for him, as if he were his own blood son. Not that Bruce had one to compare himself with, thankfully.

When Batman took him in, Jason thought that maybe the Dark Knight wanted to get some information from him about thugs or some low life. Jason was an outlaw kid with a dubious background, he was a good asset for street gossip. Yet Batman was uninterested in exploiting his street knowledge. So Jason came to the conclusion that Batman wanted a good fuck with a rat street. Other than that, Jason didn’t understand why would someone took an interested in him. Life had taught him that he was either good for a fuck or for stealing. At that point, Jason didn’t mind at all, usually white middle-aged men requested sexual favours from him, and some paid him well. Anyway, as a life story, fucking Batman could be the highlight of what his life was before meeting Bruce Wayne.

Nothing that had ever happened to him could have prepared Jason to meet the real Bruce Wayne. He still didn’t believe how kind the man was to him, without expecting him to do anything in return. Even joining Batman under the mantle of Robin had been Jason’s choice.

It was uncanny how Bruce hid his real personality under the scrutiny of the press and Gotham socialites. Certainly, there were many rumours about the tumultuous life of Bruce in the newspapers. They called him alcoholic playboy, ungrateful heir of one of the greatest fortunes of America, some people would even call him out for adopting kids when he was clearly unfitted to be a parent. How could an immature playboy take care of a child?

All of those journalists, critics, socialites, all of them were deceived by Bruce’s acting skills. Those idiots evidently hadn’t met the real Bruce Wayne. He was actually mature, way too responsible for his own good and safety. In fact, the man thought that he was responsible for saving the World, keeping together the Justice League and taking care of the people in Gotham. It was insane how much he did for others, so little for himself.

That’s why Jason didn’t understand the rage that Dick had against Bruce. He remembered how mad Dick was, all the things he said:

 _"So how long have you and Bruce...?"_ Dick asked, clearly disappointed with Jason's answer when he said _"He didn't waste any time" ~~to replace me.~~_

“ _All of those years, Bruce was training me to be a weapon, **his** weapon.”_

_"You think he is helping you but he is **using** you."_

Those words hurt, they hurt as Jason cared ~~genuinely~~ for Bruce, and even when he was mad, he didn’t hold grudges on Bruce like that.

 _What did Bruce do to him to cause Dick such rage? It was as if he… as if they… as if they had been together?_ Jason thought.

“Okay, Jason, cut the crap, you’re losing your mind.” Jason talked to himself out of his sudden realization. Sure he had seen some signs but no, Jason wasn’t going to go _there_ , because there was no way he could compete against Dick if he actually had been one of Bruce’s lovers.

 _And what if Dick still was his lover?_ His mind wondered.

“Shut up, Jason! Time to read and forget this conversation.”

 _I bet Dick looks fucking hot taking it_ , his teenager ~~bisexual~~ brain refused to stop.

"Oh fuck, I'm fucked up." Jason cursed at himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[Tumblr](https://nyxkvistad.tumblr.com/) **


	2. The Feeling Never Really Goes Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks: It is only the past in which we build what we have today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Sorry, it took me so long to update. I wrote a chapter 2 that it became chapter 3, and then I wrote another chapter 2 and it became chapter 4. So this is the fourth try for chapter 2, and I'm keeping this one.  
> 2) I'm using a timeline with years, so I don't get lost with the narrative. I hope it helps you too.  
> 3) This chapter is made of flashbacks. These are things that happened before chapter 1. It's for character development, I hope it's not heavy to read.  
> 4) By the way, I'm not a native English speaker, sorry for the mistakes. If you find grammar mistakes, I accept constructive criticism.
> 
> Warnings: There are mentions/references to violence, blood, death, sexual assault, child abuse. Nothing explicit.

**Eleven years ago (2009)**

**Gotham.** **November 28, 17:20 EST**

“And this is how you GET KILLED in patrol,” Bruce said in a furious tone that warned Dick that he was in serious trouble. Not that it was necessary for Bruce to warn him, Dick knew Bruce would be mad at his poor performance.

Dick was trying really hard but his head hurt so much. He tried to focus on fighting back. However, his moves came as sloppy, and predictable, unlike Bruce who was fast and strong, the man didn’t hesitate to throw a punch. Bruce knew what he was doing, his body was on perfect control to fight Dick without causing intentional damage. Still, Dick was a teenager, he didn’t have enough strength to win a fight against Bruce on his best days. And when he was hurt like today, he didn’t stand a chance to last more than a few minutes.

“You left your right side open, and your stance was weak, which equals a poor defence with feeble legs. Rookie mistake if you ask me, too bad you are not a rookie.” Bruce didn’t hide the heavy disappointment in his voice when he spoke. The words went straight to Dick’s stomach, making him feel like a fool, a weak one.

Dick made an effort to bounce his torso back but Bruce was on top of him, and he gave Dick no chance to move. Dick felt ashamed as he faced the training mat, he had been knocked down for the fifteenth consecutive time. It was humiliating.

“What is wrong with you? I work extra hours all week just to clear my schedule on weekends to train with you.” Bruce said and flipped Dick half turn with such ease that Dick shivered. “Your fourteen-year-old-self had a better chance against me, and maybe I’m underestimating your past self.”

For the question Bruce asked, Dick had an honest answer on the tip of his tongue. Something he forced himself to not reveal under no circumstances. He had been dreaming about Bruce since he was fifteen. Most of those dreams included Bruce on top of him, just like he was in that moment, with fewer clothes, and more friction between their bodies. Yes, Dick had some unspeakable fantasies with his mentor. Dick rolled his eyes at himself mentally, how common of him, a student falling in love with the teacher.

Dick repressed his confession: “Sorry, B, there’s nothing wrong with me. I was too busy thinking how your mouth would feel on my lips, on my neck, kissing me, driving me crazy as you tell me how much you want me.” But he couldn’t say any of that. Bruce would disown him, maybe Bruce would consider him insane, and send him to a mental institution for daring to think of him in that way.

Face to face, Bruce didn’t move, he waited for an answer, an excuse or whatever Dick had to say in his defence. Dick felt exposed, there was no escape, and so Dick bit tongue and said a partial truth “Head concussion.” It wasn’t a lie, he had a concussion but it was a minor one. Dick had had worse injuries in the past.

It worked anyway. Bruce immediately let go of the hold he had on Dick, and left to get Dick some meds. Dick sighed heavily recovering his breath, he laid down on the mat, waiting for his limbs to feel less numb. It was absurd, he was Robin, he was supposed to be stronger than this. Dick tried to put himself back on his feet, but Bruce came back in a rush and stopped him.

 _Great, he’s gonna think I am a useless idiot._ Dick thought.

“Easy, easy there.” Bruce stroke his hair, giving Dick something to focus on, and ground. “Here, these pills are for the pain.” Bruce handed him the capsules and a glass of water.

“You should have told me. This is your second head concussion in the past three months.” Bruce said with a worried tone that he couldn’t hide. Dick had his heart on his throat, he wanted to cry in anger. Of course, he didn’t tell Bruce that he was hurt, he would get benched, and Bruce would have an excuse to ignore him. If he weren’t Robin for Batman, then who he was anyway?

They sat together on the mat. Bruce raised his arm to give Dick enough room to lay his head down on his chest. As far as Bruce was concerned, his chest was Dick's favourite place to rest, which was a problematic thing on its own, but it wasn't the right time to argue about it.

They stayed in silence for a while, until Bruce forced himself to speak. If Dick was silent, it was a bad sign. He would only shut up when he was sick or sad.

“I was under the impression that you knew it was a bad idea to hide injuries from me,” Bruce said.

“Sorry,” Dick whispered in a phantom voice. Bruce’s ears barely registered his apology.

“Is there anything else you would like to say before I bench you?” Bruce asked. His tone was clear, the decision was already made. 

Dick clenched his jaw, he had to play his cards right. As much as he wanted to be mad at Bruce, he had to play it cool.

“It didn’t hurt until, like, I don’t know, yesterday? It’s nothing serious, I’ll pull myself together.” Dick said as calm as he was able to. “And I’m sorry you lost your time, I do know you work a lot. Besides Alfred, I’m the only one who knows how much you actually work.”

Dick saved himself the trouble, and suppressed the rest of his speech, which included _How dare you? I am YOUR partner, I am the person who knows you better in this entire world, and you dare to bench me? I bleed every night with you, for you, and you disrespect me like this?_ But no, Dick didn’t want to fight, so he didn’t say anything else.

Also, it was a stupid fight. Dick knew that Bruce had a billionaire company to run. Wayne Enterprises was his family legacy, it was the lasting living memory of his parents, while Dick was rather a passenger, who got enough lucky to be seen by Bruce Wayne in a tragic night.

“The end of the year is near, Dick, I’m on a tight schedule,” Bruce said as he pulled Dick closer to his chest. “Also, do not lie to me, understood?” Bruce’s voice was dangerously low. His voice should make Dick scared, instead, it made him ride the high waves of his teenage hormones.

Bruce must have felt the rising tension among them because he released Dick from his embrace, and pushed him away. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your bedroom, you need to rest.”

“No, please no, I’ll be fine, just let me stay here with you.” Dick pleaded. Lately, Bruce was only available for Wayne Enterprises, Batman, and the girlfriend, in turn, he had to parade for the press.

“Robin,” Bruce said, “upstairs now.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

“No, I’m not going anywhere,” Dick said with a pout on his face.

“Dick, you are 17, you are too old for tantrums.” Bruce crossed his arms, looking at Dick in a disapproving way as if Dick had just confessed he was a metahuman.

“It’s not a tantrum.” _Why can’t you see I just want to be with you?_ “I can’t stand lights, my head hurts. I have a head concussion, remember? The light in my room is dark, unlike the Batcave. I can lay down on the bed we have here. There will be no interruptions, I promise.” Dick said in a voice that wasn’t convincing enough. There had been a time in which it had been easy to talk to Bruce until his feelings got the best of Dick’s common sense.

Bruce assessed him with a questioning stare. He played with the idea in his head, it wasn’t a bad one, as long as they didn’t address the elephant in the room.

“Alright.” Bruce agreed, shaking his head in defeat.

They didn’t exchange another word. Dick fell asleep as soon as his head touched the fluffy pillow. He didn’t have a way to know that Bruce hardly did any work. If anything, he spent hours distracted, searching for the right words to talk to Dick. He had a rehearsed speech: _It’s just a crush, you’ll get over it with time. You don’t have to be ashamed or try so hard to impress me. You’ll grow older, and laugh about it._ Yet somehow, he hadn’t gathered the courage to speak those words aloud.

Nonetheless, the infatuation Dick had on him wasn’t the worst part. What truly scared Bruce to death was how close he was to Dick, how much he liked his presence. _Had he crossed a line?_ He couldn’t help but wonder.

* * *

**Seven months ago (2019)**

**San Francisco.** **November 5, 03:45 PDT**

From the moment he became a vigilante the night had witnessed the many lies of Dick Grayson. One of them, the most recurrent one, was to lie to his teammates about his sleeping habits. He should have been sleeping in his bed by this time. That much of it was the truth. However, reports were not written by themselves. The other members of the Titans had the annoying tendency to forget this fact. Indeed, it seemed that they thought that reports mystically materialized themselves into the intelligence system of the Tower.

“I wish it could be that easy,” Dick said to himself.

The others were already in bed sleeping – _hopefully_ , Dick thought-, only a fool would stay awake when they had a free night. Just the sound of his quick typing dared to defy the vast silence that prevailed in the Tower. He pressed his fingertips with ease, tapping on the keys fast. This report had to be finished before dawn, Dick couldn’t afford to spend another day with less than six hours of sleep. He was getting clumsy as a result of how sleep deprived he was, and the team was noticing it.

The ringtone of his cellphone pulled him brusquely out of his thoughts, the sound nearly foreign to his sleep-deprived senses. He reached for the phone, alarmed that someone would call him so late. More often than not, in his line of work, a late call meant bad news.

He took a look at the screen and sighed in relief. It was Bruce, who had ignored his calls for the last few days. If this was any other person, he would have felt insulted, but he was used to Bruce disappearing on him for underground investigations. The Batman probably had a lot to deal with back in Gotham. Dick didn’t have room to complain, this was the type of life that they both had chosen. He knew that for Batman the mission came first on priorities. When he used to be Robin, Dick thought it was difficult to deal with Bruce’s willingness to sacrifice everything for his quest of justice. It had hurt a lot in the past, but Dick got over it. Until it hurt again, even worst when they became romantic partners four months ago. If it had been difficult to deal with it previously, this time it was more complicated. It was selfish, he knew it. After all, Dick wasn’t that different from Bruce. He didn't preach it as Batman did, however, Dick/Nightwing would trade his life if it was the only way to save another person.

“There is no reason for you to be mad, grow up, Dick.” If he said it to himself enough times, maybe, ~~just maybe~~ , one day he would come to fully believe it.

He accepted the incoming call ready to act nonchalant, not that it had ever worked for him, but at least he could give it a try.

“Hi,” Bruce said in a tone that came as breathy.

“Hi” was a simple word, but this was Bruce’s voice, so there was nothing simple about it. It meant too much for Dick. It was enough for Dick to drop out any intent of pretending he didn’t care. He had no game against Bruce. He did care more than it was sane to care for someone. For what it was worth, it was rather stupid to pretend otherwise. They both had lost years faking that they weren’t in love with each other.

“Hi,” Dick replied. A warm flow of heat expanded through his face. He blushed, and he knew that Bruce knew that he did. Even if they couldn't see each other's faces, Dick could picture the knowing grin on Bruce's lips. 

“I was worried. I didn't know if something bad had happened to you. You should have told me that you were busy. Whatever you were doing, which I bet you can’t tell me for a paranoid reason of yours, just don’t – don’t disappear on me like that.” Dick spoke in a trained calm voice. It was all fake. He was bursting on mixed emotions that didn’t make any sense to his mind.

“Fair enough,” Bruce said in a carefully crafted voice. He waited in anticipation for Dick to say something else losing his temper. He did not. Bruce smiled proudly and engaged in the conversation.

“How is it been going?” Bruce asked.

Dick chuckled, the change of the conversation was to be expected. Typical of Bruce. “I don’t know, how is it going for you?”

“Stubborn,” Bruce said with a smile on his lips.

“You like it,” Dick said sure of himself.

“I do,” Bruce replied.

“I guess all is fine. They are – well, they are teenagers: Gar, Rach, and Rose. And Hank is not a teenager by age but he sure acts like one. They are fine, really, it’s just sometimes they get on my nerves. They don’t follow orders, they blow things, and they put themselves at unnecessary risk. You get it, right? Jason is a whole package.” Dick explained.

Bruce sighed heavily on the other side of the line. He didn’t want to talk about Jason, most important, he didn’t want anyone to talk to him about Jason. Then again, Dick didn’t have a way to know why Bruce felt distraught talking about the kid.

“I don’t see what’s there to compare, Dick,” Bruce said dryly. 

“Shit, sorry, did I say something wrong? I didn’t say it in a mean way, I know he’s a good kid, it’s just that sometimes he is a handful. Damn, I’m doing it again. I swear I have nothing against Jason, it’s just I trained him, and he is… You know what? I’m gonna shut up.” Dick rambled senselessly.

“He got injured,” Bruce said. The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Is he-, what happened? Is he alright? Did Leslie check him?” Dick asked concerned. Whatever had happened to Jason, it couldn’t be any good if Bruce was in a defensive mood.

“He got stabbed. It was deep, he bled a lot. Leslie discharged him yesterday from the hospital.” Bruce said focused on inhaling and exhaling at a regular speed. He was livid. There was no worse version of Batman than a Batman with a hurt Robin at the hands of a criminal.

All Bruce could see was Jason bleeding, Jason’s blood on his hands. The pain on the kid’s face, his kid. He hadn’t called Dick because he had lost track of time. Bruce didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, and he didn’t work. He sat by Jason’s hospital bed. He only left the room a few times when Leslie asked him –begged him- to give her space to do her job. Bruce didn’t want to, he was afraid the kid was going to vanish in the air. Right there, vanishing in front of his eyes.

“Bruce, are you still there?” Dick asked just to pull Bruce out of his thoughts. He had seen Bruce trying to cope with the aftermath of a Robin injured during patrolling. He used to be the Robin who caused Bruce’s breakdowns. Needless to say that Bruce didn’t cope well with a Robin chocking on his own blood. 

For all Dick knew, Bruce was punishing himself with an insane amount of guilty thoughts, overworking himself, and putting distance between Jason and him. Bruce could be emotionally constipated like that. Dick knew better than giving advice to Bruce in that state of mind, but he was going to do it anyway. Somebody had to talk some sense to the Dark Knight of Gotham.

“I know you are blaming yourself. Replaying in your obsessive mind what happened, what you could have done instead. It is useless and cruel. You know it, I know it. Please, stop. It wasn’t your fault-“

Dick was interrupted by a very upset Bruce, “And how do you know it wasn’t my fault? Hasn't it crossed to your brilliant mind that it could all had been my fault? You weren’t there when it happened. You have no idea, you don’t understand – It was my responsibility to look after him and I failed. How am I supposed to-“

“For God’s sake, Bruce, shut up! Just shut up! I’m sure you had spent these last days thinking about what a despicable monster you are. I’m not gonna sit here and listen to you feeding yourself more venom, are we clear? Now, I wasn’t there, yeah, I wasn’t, I’m gonna give you that one, B, just that one. I wasn’t there but I know you. And I don’t believe for a second that you didn’t risk everything to save his life. I can’t imagine a world, or an Earth, in which Batman lets _his_ Robin die. You don’t do that. So no, it wasn’t your fault, Bruce.”

Dick waited for Bruce to say something, anything. When he got no replied, he continued “I’m sure you remember – There was this time when I got kidnapped, tortured, all courtesy of Two-Face. The second time he did, by the way. It was bad, he got under my skin. I never told you because I didn’t want you to think of me as weak, but on the way to the hospital, I didn’t think I’d survive to see you again. I was sure I was going to die.” Dick took a moment to clear his throat. His mind forgot how much those memories hurt, but his body didn’t. He could still feel the pain of his body being beaten harshly without rest, the wandering hands that tortured him, and invaded his body without consent. 

He recovered his breathe and added “Then again, I never doubted you, I never thought for a single second that you hadn’t tried your best to save me. I knew that. I put all my trust in you, I put my life in your hands, and you never failed to save me. So don’t tell me that it was your fault, don’t even try to convince me because I know you better than that. I know the man under the cowl.”

Dick met silence again. Though he didn’t force an answer from Bruce, he couldn’t get mad at him for his lack of response. The last thing that Bruce needed was another reason to be upset.

“B, you know you can call me, right? When something bad happens, just call me? You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but you don’t have to be alone either. I can do the talking, as long as you need.” Dick added in a soft tone.

Still, no response came from Bruce. Dick sighed and stretched his arms. At least Bruce hadn’t hung up on him yet. Even so, it would be very difficult for him to concentrate enough to finish his work. The report was 90% finished, the 10% left could wait until he had a few hours of sleep.

“B, please, tell me that you are not on your way to do something stupid,” Dick added, as he turned off his laptop.

“I know you think your rule against killing is enough, but beating criminals to vegetable state or mental madness is close to literal death,” Dick spoke in a low voice, making sure that no one could hear him as he made his way to his bedroom.

“Bruce?” Dick tried one more time. When there was no answer, he stopped pushing it. Sometimes it was better to give Bruce space to process his thoughts and feelings.

Bruce took his time before talking. Meanwhile, Dick brushed his teeth, cleaned his face, and changed into his pyjamas.

“When you left I think - I spent a lot of time working alone.” Bruce didn’t have to be explicit for Dick to read between the lines. Bruce had desensitize himself to work solo, he had underestimated his attachment to his current Robin. “He bled like you used to, he closed his eyes like you. I wasn’t ready.” Bruce said drowned in guilt. 

“Nobody is ready to lose the ones you love, but we already know that, don’t we?” Dick sat on his bed and took a pen to play with his fingers as if the pen would grant him the guts to be honest with Bruce. “You gotta forgive me for coming across as an asshole but I have to tell you, the only reason you are mad is that you just realized how much you care about Jason. You are losing control, as you lost it with me. Not in the same way, I know. You forgot Robin was never supposed to be a weapon, he was created to be Batman's partner. And once you get attached to someone, you can’t use them as tools. Sorry, Bruce, you are human like that, as flawed as the rest of us.” 

“Forward,” Bruce replied.

“Just raw honesty, your favourite one. The one you like to take.” Dick said, suddenly regretting his own words when they were out of his mouth.

“Keep talking to me like that, and you’ll see-“

“What? You are gonna punish me _harder_?” Dick laughed for a second, “I’m sorry, you’re not in the mood, and this is not the right time.”

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“No, I can’t. This is how I cope. You hide in the darkness, I say stupid shit to light up the mood.” Dick replied stating what they both already knew. “About what I said, that I’m here for you, I am serious. I’m here if you want to talk, or if you don’t want to talk. Whatever you need, my love.”

“Hhnn.”

“Okay, B, I’m taking it as a yes.” Dick was used to Bruce’s cryptic replies. Bruce was who he was, and Dick had learnt to decode the Bat's language.

“Wait, there’s someone coming,” Bruce said.

“At this hour?” Dick asked in confusion.

“Why are you doing here? You are supposed to be in your bed.” Bruce asked perplexed. Jason wasn’t supposed to have enough energy to roam around the manor.

“I forgot my meds here, and I didn’t want to wake up Alfred,” Jason said in a sleepy voice, which made him sound younger than his age. Dick heard his voice in the distance, it was fragile.

“Then call me.” Bruce said, “Here, sit. Do you remember where you left them?” Bruce asked and Jason said no with a puzzled face. “You look terrible, you can’t even get enough air into your lungs, NO, don’t move, stay there, and don’t speak.”

“That’s my love, so gentle and kind. Excellent with kids.” Dick said with sarcasm on his side of the line.

“Here, these are your meds, right?” Bruce asked and Jason nodded a yes. Jason failed in his attempt to vocalize a word, his throat was burning on irritation.

“Don’t speak, you will hurt yourself. I’m taking you to your room.” Bruce added and Jason must have tried to say something against Bruce’s will because Dick heard Bruce said, “I don’t care how old you are, Jason, I’m carrying you to bed, now stop squirming. Stop, I said STOP.”

Dick snorted, Bruce was overprotective like that. Jason was an especial kind of trouble though. He was smart but he craved causing trouble to gain attention from others.

“Bruuuuce.” Jason growled with a hurt voice, even Dick flinched at the noise the kid made.

“Jason, your throat isn’t healed, stop talking,” Bruce remarked.

“Hey you, talk to you later?” Bruce said to Dick.

“Of course, B.” 

Dick hung up the call and looked towards the window. It was late, or early in the morning. He didn't want to know.

"Shit, I really need to get some sleep."

*******

**Gotham.** **November 5, 06:45 EST**

“Thanks, Bruce,” Jason whispered when Bruce laid him down on his bed.

“Here, push the bottom on this control if you need anything, whatever it is,” Bruce spoke to Jason as if he were five years old.

Jason wanted to be annoyed, to complain, and to yell. He was sixteen, he wasn’t a kid. But he did nothing remotely close to protest. Inside of him, there was this abused, neglected kid who enjoyed all the attention he got from Bruce and Alfred. 

“Bruce,” Jason whispered with his damaged throat. “Who was on the phone?” Jason’s curiosity was written on his face.

“Someone,” Bruce replied dismissively.

“Evasive,” Jason pouted. “So Selina – Catwoman?”

“Good night, Jason,” Bruce said ignoring what Jason intended to ask. He was on his way to the door when Jason had a coughing fit. He turned his head to see the kid. He was a mess, and he looked smaller in the eyes of Bruce. 

Bruce hurried to be by his side, “Jay, focus on your breathing, and drink some water.” Bruce held the glass of water for Jason, the tendons of his hands were still swollen.

Bruce took advantage of Jason’s quietness to scold him lightly. “This is why you shouldn’t be talking or smoking, or drinking beer.” Jason’s eyes went wide at Bruce’s mention of his bad habits, he thought he was doing a good job as keeping them secret.

“You thought I didn’t notice? Reckless of you.” Bruce said as he added an extra pillow for Jason’s head to be enough elevated while sleeping.

Jason took his iPad and pencil, which he was supposed to use for communication. His handwriting was weak, the inflammation of his fingers was unforgiven.

Jason wrote: **You’re mad?**

“Kind of,” Bruce replied.

Jason shrugged his shoulders and wrote: **Am I grounded?**

Bruce considered his question for a minute until he made up his mind for a clear answer. “You are injured, and sick. That’s enough.”

Jason wrote: **Can I still be Robin?**

“Yes,” Bruce replied, even though the guilt tried to cripple his tongue. Jason smiled brightly at his answer.

Jason took the pencil again, he hesitated for a second. Bruce waited for Jason to ask for help, he didn’t want to invade the kid's personal space if it wasn’t needed.

Jason wrote: **Please stay? I’m scared :(**

Jason was terrified, he hadn’t been this defenceless since he was nine years old. He was injured to the point that he was useless to take care of himself, to scream for help, to run for his life.

Bruce nodded and asked carefully, “would it be okay with you if we share the bed? No pressure, I can take the couch.”

Jason wrote: **I trust you :)**

Bruce smiled fondly, he didn’t take Jason’s words in vain. He had learned the hard way that Jason wasn’t anything like Dick, neither like him. Jason was a bruised kid in cruellest ways. He had been betrayed, rejected, and abused by the people who were supposed to protect him. It was a different trauma than the one Bruce, and Dick shared. It wasn’t a tragic death which haunted him, it was the bitter venom of betrayal. Bruce didn’t want to compare, there was no use in measuring who had suffered the most. Pain was pain, as so it was trauma. However, when he remembered his parents, he held onto the good memories. He couldn’t imagine a life in which he didn’t have that relief.

“Good night,” Bruce said slipping into the bed.

Jason tried one more time: **Spill the tea, should I call Selina “mommy”? :P**

Bruce laughed, he did. If only Jason knew… but Jason wasn’t ready to hear the whole truth, and Bruce wasn’t ready to tell him anything.

“Go. To. Sleep.” Bruce turned off the lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it.


	3. Have You No Idea That You're in Deep?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ex-sidekicks of Batman, Wonder Woman and Arrow reflect on their past and what might come next. Bruce and Dick have private time to share their love. Bruce and Selina talk, she plays her cards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a historic reference: Alexander the Great and Hephaestion were very close friends and perhaps, they were lovers. We don't know for sure, but I declared them lovers for the purpose of this fic. Alexander is Bruce, Hephaestion is Dick.
> 
> Warnings: Graphic sexual content. It's more graphic than I thought it would be. Since we are in the firsts chapters, I hope it doesn't come as 'too much'.

**Titans Tower. May 9, 14:00 PDT**

“Dick,” a familiar tempered voice called for him.

Dick acknowledged her presence by putting down the dumbbells he was using to strengthen his biceps, he turned his head to meet her eyes with an amiable smile and greeted her, “Hi.”

Donna smiled back and met his bright eyes. “Sorry to interrupt your training, but you told me to let you know when Roy arrived.”

“He’s here?” Dick’s face lit up.

“Yeah… your bro-boyfriend is back in town, Dick,” Donna rolled her eyes, already foreseeing the mess Dick and Roy would make together.

The redhead made a dramatic entry, he stepped into the room with a dashing smile and launched an arrow into the air.

“Calm down, Roy!” Donna warned him, Dick didn’t share the feeling.

“Oh my God! You are real, you are really here!” Dick ran towards him and hugged him tightly.

“Easy, easy, batboy. I’m here, I’m real,” Roy assured him, hugging his friend with an extra amount of force.

“You have no idea how much I fucking miss you – You can’t, I couldn’t cope, I didn’t know what to do – And I, I miss you, I was alone,” Dick confessed with a small voice.

“You are not, Dick. You will never be. You have me, Wally, Donna and Alfred. I know the Bat is a complicated one but the grumpy asshole loves you.” Roy kissed his temple, and addressed Donna, “Who broke him?”

“No one, he is a dramatic bitch, like you.” Donna teased. “C’mon, boys, save the sentimentalism for later, we need to talk.” 

*******

The Tower was empty. The three old friends gladdened on the lack of prying eyes and ears. They sat on the living room to eat the takeout food they had ordered and to drink beer.

They were experts at the art of revisiting memories. The trio recalled with expertise the tainted reminiscences from their violent night job. They talked about the missions that went right, the ones which went wrong. They opened up about their life after quitting as sidekicks, what they had learnt through the years living on their own, with honesty regarding the failed attempts to move on with their lives without their secret identities. And even if talking about the pieces of their hearts that stayed in the past with the fallen ones brought sorrow, they still honoured their sacrifice by saying their names and thanking them for what they did.

“So… where do we go from here?” Roy inquired.

“You are welcome to join us, as we told you once, you will always have a reserved spot in this team with us,” Donna added.

“Does it mean I have to work with the Green Arrow? ‘Cause I don’t know how you both work with your ex-mentors.” Roy said bitterly, “I guess Diana isn’t that bad but Bruce,” Roy stared at Dick, “How do you it, man? How?”

Donna eyed Dick sideways, “You wanna share?”

Dick shrugged his arms, taking a sip from his beer. “I – Oh, I” Dick blushed and found himself lost at words.

Roy studied the way in which Dick blushed, and the all-knowing-smirk Donna had on her face. When his mind finally made a verdict he said, “Oh my…” 

“Oh yes!” Donna laughed.

“Holy crap! Dick, what the hell? I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you. It’s just… you are _you_ , the Golden Boy, with your looks and personality you could have anyone.” Roy added.

“We get it, Wonder Boy. I think we all saw it coming, you weren’t exactly subtle. One has to be blind to not see the love on your eyes when you look at him.” Donna patted Dick on his back, taking a seat next to him. “To your question, Roy, we work as equals with the Justice League. We don’t expect you to make amends with Oliver, or to talk to him aside missions.” Donna turned her head to address Dick, “You want to add something? It was you who made the deal with Batman…”

“As Donna said, you don’t have to interact with Oliver on a personal level. Besides the present leader of the League is Bruce, he is the one who contacts us most often. Sometimes Clark and Diana. I think we have received more calls from Barry than Oliver. Don’t worry, if anything happens between you two, we have your back.” Dick added with consideration. He knew why Roy was mad at Oliver, and he understood better than anyone.

“Same to you. If the Big Bat hurts you,” Roy made a slitting throat gesture, “Be sure of it.”

Donna couldn’t stifle a guffaw, “You’re gonna get yourself killed, Roy. He is The Batman, and you are, well, just you.”

“That’s Arsenal for both of you,” Roy replied with pride. 

“Thanks, _Arsenal_ , I appreciate the sentiment. So are you in?” Dick asked.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He raised his beer to toast, “For the good times to come, Titans!” Donna and Dick joined him with their drinks.

* * *

**Somewhere in Atlantic City in a safe-house. May 13, morning.**

There was a mystery, which had lived once as truth, and it perished as a whisper in the mouths of the ones who spoke with doubt. Though time had been its witness, somehow the knowledge of its existence had not been sufficient enough to keep it as truthful as it simply was.

It had been a long time since Alexander and his lover had died, though it did not change the fact that love sprouted in the hearts of warriors with the same certainty in which flowers flourished in spring every year. It was as romantic as it was tragic. The misfortune of loving someone who played with the ghost of death, every night, with no desire to curb his longing for justice.

It was written that _Alexander was only defeated once, the Cynic philosophers said long after his death, and that was by Hephaestion's thighs_. Since the moment Dick had read the reference, these words buried themselves in his fanciful mind. He envisaged with the idea in an unreasonable amount of time for someone who wanted to preserve his sanity. He did it non-stop until such whimsical thought became a reality. Doubtless, Alexander had found his reincarnation in Bruce’s shadow, and Hephaestion had gotten his second chance to defeat Alexander through Dick.

Years ago in a summer night, fate had blessed Dick to be the witness on how to defeat an Alexander with precision. Dick remembered the first time with vivid memory: He had felt the softness of the blankets on his back, as he eased his fears away to part his legs and take Bruce in. The intensity of Bruce’s gaze had been unbearable at first, Dick wondered if Hephaestion had felt the same way when he had welcomed Alexander into his space. The fingertips of his lover caressing his thighs, Bruce licking his erection, the hands of his lover stroking his length, his sweet tongue tracing the borders of his inner thighs. Bruce buried his fingers on the skin of his thighs with abandon, as he tasted the curves of his ass, addicted to the salty taste, which elated him to dive into him deeper. His lover dived into the tight walls of his backside and buried himself inside Dick. “Take me, make me yours,” Dick had asked. Half-truth. It was Dick who was taking Bruce, he was the one who was making Bruce his. Bruce had sunk down, Dick’s thighs had made him their prisoner. They became one, as there was no bail for the prison that his thighs made.

In the heat of the night, Dick confessed his undying love for Bruce, only to meet the silence of his lips, and the noise of his manhood making his way into him, claiming his body as his property. Dick had never felt such pleasure before, he had never felt so completed either. Dick thought of himself as dead until he saw Bruce with wide eyes. Wrecked, cursed. Dick had died overwhelmed by the touch of his lover but he was brought to life for the same reason. Bruce left that night without a word, but he came back the next day. Dick smiled, he had defeated Bruce. 

That’s how even after years since then, in spite of the fights and all the things that went wrong between them, they kept coming back to each other. That’s why Bruce kept calling him, making excuses of sketchy missions to drag Dick back to him. It was hilarious for Dick, who never stopped loving Bruce, not even once. Didn’t he know? He didn’t need any excuse.

That’s how they had ended up here, hiding inside four walls with no one to take the score on their flaws, taking back all the time they had lost on account of pride and lies. They sat on the couch with bodies entwined, just to make out. Heat rising in the living room, there was no enough oxygen for them to bring into their lungs. Slow, soft kisses for every “ _I miss you quite terribly,”_ which they didn’t dare to say. Hands moving faster, mapping the geography of their bodies, yet their clothes remained. It was an easy way to ask _“I’ve missed your presence but I missed your body too, and I don’t mean to overstep but can I fuck you tonight?”_ The question would be useless to articulate. The answer hung in the air when Dick moaned shamelessly at how good it felt when Bruce nibbled his lips and grasped his crotch.

“Please, fuck me, please, please, just, do it,” Dick begged as Bruce devoured his neck with his mouth and teeth. That was one thing Dick didn’t really have to ask for Bruce to give in, but Bruce liked driving him insane.

“Want you – So much,” Dick’s voice came as breathy as he spoke into Bruce’s ear. He undressed Bruce quicker than Bruce could ever undress his younger lover. It was his thing. He liked the intimacy of stripping him from his clothes, seeing the flickering vulnerability on his face that Bruce hardly cared to show.

Bruce helped him out of his shirt, making a mental note to revere his scars with kisses and praise another night. His hand wrapped Dick’s sharp cheek with no other purpose than to hold him, the words _“I’m here, you’re here, and I don’t want to let go,”_ died on his tongue. Maybe Dick read it on his face for he smiled fondly at him, then again, this was Dick, this precious man would smile even at the grumpiest version of Bruce.

They lost the remaining clothes on their way to the bedroom, stealing kisses from each other, hands refusing to stay still, step by step through the hallways. Dick tripped twice. The usual grace of his legs gone by the adrenaline rush caused by the burning lust in his gut.

They stumbled into the bedroom, walking with clumsy feet, they were too heated to think. Dick had never been in this safe-house before. Bruce, who arrived first, seemed to have prepared everything for the expected outcome. Dick felt pleased to see the lube and water waiting for them in the night table. The notion that Bruce had planned it meant that he was eager for Dick, as much as Dick was eager for him. It aroused him to think that Bruce had been waiting for him, thinking about all the ways he could claim him. Dick bit his lip to not say it, he wasn’t enough gone in the mood to spill his feelings but he had dreamt about Bruce every night since the last time he saw him.

“What are you thinking?” Bruce stroked his cock to catch his attention. Dick hummed under the attention that his cock was receiving.

“About you” He paused to wet his lips, “like I do all the damn time.”

The second Dick stopped talking Bruce hovered over him and claimed his lips with fervour. Dick got high like this. Being kissed so much, soft or rough, slow or fast, with no time to spare for breathing. They played this game in which Dick would lose his mind by Bruce overwhelming his senses until Dick was nothing but a whimpering mess begging for something, anything that would make him come. 

The sound of an open bottle let Dick know what would come next. He hooked his legs around Bruce’s hips to give him a better angle. Bruce was satisfied and let him know. “So eager.” Dick was, indeed.

Bruce rubbed circles around his pink hole with lube, teasing him with the promise of the invasion they both had been craving for.

“Such pretty cock you have,” he licked the head and sucked it in a measured pace, just enough to keep Dick tortured in ecstasy longer. The shivering of his skin was intensified as he heard the praise escaped his lover’s mouth.

“You are so responsive,” Bruce pushed into his wet hole a finger dripping in lube, Dick whimpered under his touch.

Bruce took him apart with the pressure of his fingers scissoring his ass. He was so nice to him, distracting him from the initial pain with his tongue licking his cock.

“More, please,” Dick asked and who was Bruce to deny such precious creature what he wanted? So he pressed inside him another finger, this time making sure he was touching his prostrate. Dick whined high as the pleasure of the stimulation reached his senses. The heavy panting of Dick encouraged Bruce to push a third finger.

“Fuck,” Dick cursed, “don’t stop.” The pleasure overcame the discomfort, the tight muscles of his ass loosed pliantly the way Bruce’s fingers fucked into him.

“You’re so good for me, so pliant and good,” Bruce said with a cocky smirk, his body emanating a dark passionate aura, dangerous like bad news, right up of Dick’s alley. Bruce pushed a fourth finger in a rash motion just to prove his point. He was so open he didn’t know if he was possible for his ass to stretch more. Dick cried in pleasure, panting a bunch of “ah, yes,” and by instinct spread his legs wider. The soreness combined with the ecstasy felt so good to the mixed cables of his brain. Something must have gone wrong with him because he shouldn’t have enjoyed so much the rough treatment as he did. However, Bruce must have liked the show because he speeded his rhythm, and asked him in a throaty voice “You like it, honey?”

The rational side of his brain told Dick that he should be grateful, he should have thanked him _for the patient and consideration_ as Bruce had a huge cock, long and wide, and meaty. Though the animalist side of his brain had a very opposite opinion.

“Bet you can take my whole hand with this nice ass of yours,” his words were punctuated by Bruce pushing his fingers into him faster. Right there, Dick was the whimpering mess Bruce liked. Dick moaned helplessly something closer to a “yes”, Bruce smiled with satisfaction.

“But that’s not what you want, right baby?” There again the devilish smirk on his face, Dick denied with his head.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want, honey?” Bruce was waiting for an answer. He pulled his fingers out, leaving Dick’s ass empty and clenching to feel the stretch of something again. Dick whined obscenely at the lost.

Dick knew how to beg for Bruce to stop torturing him and just fuck him. He knew how to rile the man up to wreck every nerve Dick had. However, sometimes all Dick wanted was to make Bruce pay for making him such a pathetic, whiny mess. Tonight was one of those nights. 

Dick smiled well knowing what his next move would be. He used his force to roll Bruce under him, and kept him there. It was a dirty move. They both restrained the use of their trained strength during sex. Especially Bruce, who was the stronger one. Bruce appeared stunned for a second, then he changed his expression to something daring.

“Brat,” Bruce said. Dick enthusiastically took the bait, rubbing shamelessly the slit of his ass against Bruce’s hard erection, maintaining eye contact. Bruce’s blue eyes got darker in lust, full of hunger and something else that Dick couldn’t quite decipher.

Bruce tried reaching for Dick’s hips, his fingertips barely touching the smooth skin when Dick slapped his hand. Essentially, Dick had other plans. “This is what I want,” he said and with a sudden motion, Dick impaled himself on Bruce’s cock, moaning in a high-pitched tone as a response of the huge stretch. The inner walls of his ass sucked Bruce’s cock in, evidencing Dick was right, he knew what he wanted. He wanted to fuck himself hard on his cock and give Bruce a show called “ _This is how much I craved your cock inside me every night.”_

That was exactly what he did. He pushed his hands on the chest of his lover to recover his balance and fucked himself hard, fast, and merciless. The wave of pleasure growing in Dick’s groin area, he was close to his own orgasm. He fought the heaviness of his eyelids to see Bruce’s flushed face with drunk eyes on pleasure. The notion that he could make this stern man this weak did it for Dick. He came with a full-body orgasm, whitening his vision, and feeling his body spam as if it had a mind of its own. The spams of his body showed in his shallow thrusts, Bruce took mercy on him. He took his hips and thrust, hard and nice, on his prostrate until Dick was a mess of crying due to the overstimulation.

Bruce sat coaxing Dick closer to him, holding him with his strong arms, while Dick recover his breathe. He used all his self-control to not slam into him, fucked his tight ass until he was full of his come. No, Bruce was, unlike Dick, an expert at waiting. 

“Look at the mess you made,” What Bruce said wasn’t registered by Dick’s brain, who stared at him confused with blushed cheeks, wet red lips, and puppy eyes. He was adorable, almost would have looked innocent if he hadn’t been sitting on Bruce’s cock.

Bruce took with his fingers the cum Dick splashed on their bodies and fed him it to him. Dick welcomed the fingers and licked them his tongue. The post-orgasmic state silencing his inner shame that cursed his oral fixation. Bruce stared at him pleased, Dick was so entranced sucking his fingers that Bruce assumed Dick had forgotten he had company. He thrust his hips, slamming his cock inside him. Dick yelped and gave Bruce his fingers back.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” his voice was gentle, Dick knew he meant it, “but you have work to do.” Bruce rolled them to pull Dick under him, “this is where you belong,” Bruce whispered into his ear, “in my bed, full of cock, begging for more,” Dick arched his back and said “please.”

This time Bruce was the one who took the bait. Taking full advantage on the flexibility Dick had, Bruce bent him in half, pushing Dick’s knees behind his ears, pushing his rock hard cock into him.

“Look at me,” Bruce demanded, only for Dick to hum as a sign that he was indeed listening, even when the afterglow had locked his eyes for good. “Pat my back to shift,” Bruce told him. He was acquainted with how difficult was for Dick to articulate words when he was high on dopamine and oxytocin, which could result in Dick harming himself.

Bruce waited for a short moment to see the gorgeous sight his lover made. Then he stopped holding back and fucked into him senselessly. The tightness around his cock, the warmth inside, the softness of his inner walls, all perfectly put together. Dick was a sin made into human form with his pretty face, sunny smile, and his sweet ass. Bruce wasn’t a better man, he was a sinner who would keep Dick to himself, and make him his until he couldn’t remember anyone else’s name.

He fastened up his pace and Dick joined him canting his hips, clenching his ass around his cock. “Come with me,” Bruce jerked off Dick’s cock, making him climax for the second time. Once Dick was wriggling in the haze of his orgasm, Bruce came and emptied himself in his ass.

They stayed still for a while to come back from their high. Despite how sleepy Dick was, he felt the soreness of his low back overcame him. So he patted Bruce to let him move but a pair of arms embraced him, carefully helping him to lay down, and putting a pillow under his head. Dick smiled, sometimes Bruce would treat as if he were made of glass.

Both stayed close, lying down in the bed, with no words to say. The heat irradiating from his lover’s body next to him let Dick know that Bruce was still there, and not on his way to fighting crime… Abruptly, the afterglow crashed for Dick. Of course, Bruce had asked him to come here to work, not for fun.

“Bruce,” Dick called for him. He had something to say, but he needed to put his words in a mature way, he didn’t want to sound like a childish high school boyfriend. He tried collecting his thoughts, yet his brain refused to function.

Bruce had known Dick for a long time… more than the usual time recommended for someone to meet a lover. Regardless of what others could say, the time they had known each other had more advantages than disadvantages. For instance, moments like these when one of them couldn’t talk and the other guessed his thoughts with little effort.

“I’m staying.” Bruce brushed away the hair on Dick’s forehead and entwined gently his fingers on his brownish strands. He played with his hair, caressing his skull, as he listened to Dick’s even breathing. It was a rare night for both of them to stay inside, far away from the wicked. The peacefulness of the night contained their stillness as if the night was glad to witness the bond they shared.

“Thanks,” Dick drifted to sleep to a place Bruce couldn’t follow. He held him closer and turned off the lights.

* * *

**Gotham. May 16, 11:00 EST**

Jason had taken his time to clean his room, or that’s what he told Alfred, anyway. He wasn’t cleaning his room, he was categorizing his books, which belonged to Bruce actually. However, when Jason asked Bruce if he minded Jason taking his favourite books from the library to his room, Bruce had said no. That was a win. So if the books were in his territory, Jason didn’t find any problem in creating categories for fun.

It was therapeutic. The words, the books, the authors, the literary movements, they were all constants. Sadly for Jason, constants weren’t something common in his life. So he organized the bookshelves with different categories every other week when he wasn’t mentally exhausted from his PTSD. Actually, during the last few months, he had made real progress in therapy, at times he almost forgot his mind was tainted by trauma.

He and Bruce hardly spoke about his _issue_. Bruce would drop Jason in Dinah Lance’s office, and then he would pick him up two hours later to have _bond time_. Dinah had requested Bruce to do it. Jason was sure Dinah blackmailed Bruce with some Batman content for him to accept to spend extra time with Jason. So with all his faulty pride, Jason tried to convince her that he didn’t need to spend extra time with him. Dinah saw right straight to him, it enraged Jason how easy the woman knew his destructive self-defence coping mechanisms, and said: “You think you will disappoint him but you won’t. Bruce cares more about you than you think, give the Bat a chance.”

Jason was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard familiar voices coming from the hallway. He was glad that there was someone outside, awake and probably willing to talk. Jason was in need of a distraction to avoid falling into his obsessive overthinking, which only leaded to the darkest places of his fragile mind.

He opened his door to search for the source of the sounds, unfortunately, he found no one in plain sight. He used his bat-senses, all the training Bruce taught him had to pay it off. That was when he heard Bruce laughing. _Is hell freezing? Are pigs flying outside?_ Jason thought.

The noises came from Bruce’s room but his door was closed. _What a shame would be if someone spy on them, someone, someone like me_ _._

Jason knew that he shouldn’t but it was a sunny Saturday morning, and he already felt like he wanted to die. His brain didn’t care that the weekend allowed him to take a break, his brain wanted to explode in obsessive thoughts. Somehow that was enough of an excuse for him to turn on his laptop, to access the bat-computer system of security, and to pry on Bruce and whoever was with him.

 _Whatever, it’s not like I’m going to blackmail him or something._ Jason thought to wash away his guilt.

Jason's eyes widened at the sight of Selina in a tight, black dress sitting in Bruce’s bed. She was hot and that dress suited her curves well.

“Did you sign the papers I ask you to?” Bruce asked her.

Selina contemplated her answer, she tilted her head to the right and blinked twice. “No, I did not,” Selina said playfully.

“We had an agreement. Is there a reason for your change of heart?” Bruce asked.

“There is an old factor that I wasn’t counting before, but this factor requires my protection. Besides, this factor is being affected by a new factor that recently came into my life. So no, Bruce, I did not sign the papers.” Selina said.

“Do the factors have a name?” Bruce inquired.

“They do, but I’ll keep both to myself,” Selina said.

“Hn, Selina, I can’t wait more time.” Bruce approached her close.

“You have no choice, you have to give me more time. I’m only asking for three months, at most. For all the good times, and all the fun we had spent together, would you wait for me just before September begins? Please, Bat?” She had big pleading eyes which Jason thought they would disarm any man with blood in his veins. Jason was one of those, he would have said “yes,” in less than a heartbeat.

Bruce had some kind of immunity, as expected, and gave his answer some thought. When he made up his mind, he carefully said “You have until September 1st, Selina, I need you to understand that it’s a deadline. I need your answer, signed papers on your hands.”

Selina nodded and said in a low voice, “Yes, Bat.” She held her right hand onto his neck, she looked thoughtful and pleased. She unbuttoned the first three buttons of Bruce’s shirt to touch his skin with her thin fingers, Jason fidgeted on his seat.

Jason panicked seeing the intimate touch. _This is uncomfortable to watch. Are they gonna fuck? Oh, oh, oh, they are in his room, oh, I’m the one crossing the lines. Oh, damn it._

He was about to close the security screen tab when he heard Selina laughing.

“You wear souvenirs from your model’s friends nowadays?” Her voice showed her amusement. Bruce was confused for a moment as if he didn't know what was Selina talking about, then he must have remembered something because a knowing smirk crossed his face.

“Bruce, did you get attacked by another bat?” Selina insisted.

“Selina, don’t.” He took away her hand from his shirt and covered his bitten skin from her curious eyes.

“This model, in turn, takes her job very seriously, I wonder what's her name,” she said in a playful tone.

Bruce played the fool. He did not comment on her remark. Instead, he asked, “I’ll see you at The Children Butterfly Gala next week?”

“For the kids and the diamonds? Sure. For you? Only if you’re wearing a black suit.” She winked and left with the grace of a cat through the window.

“Why doesn’t she use the goddamn door? Why?” Jason complained in the other room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I got a Minor in History and all I did with it was to write a fanfic with Alexander the Great and Hephaestion as metaphors.
> 
> Next chapter the plot will move faster, I swear.


	4. Led by Blind Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back with the Titans, Dick has still some things to get done before he comes back to the Manor. Bruce should listen more to Clark before he gets clawed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is... I got sick (it wasn't COVID), I'm still recovering it so... I don't know how this chapter went. I'm sorry if I screwed up the characterization. 
> 
> Warnings: Sexual content.

**Twelve years ago, Gotham.**

“Dick, a word,” Bruce demanded without giving previous notice of his presence in the living room. The sixteen-year-old boy choked on a cookie.

Dick followed him with uncertainty. He had done nothing wrong, he didn't remember doing anything that might have upset Bruce. Besides his little secret living in one of Bruce's safe-houses.

Bruce was beyond irritated by the fact that Dick went as far as hiding Roy Harper in their secrete territory. He was mildly familiarised with the issues the redhead had, he kind of sympathised. However, whatever trouble Roy had, it didn’t excuse his ward’s problematic behaviour. Dick should have known better than to lie to Bruce.

“I'm heavily disappointed in you.” The words crushed Dick, Bruce saw it on his face. He almost felt pity. The keyword was _almost_. “You disobeyed me and you lied to me. Worse, you jeopardised the trust between Batman and Robin.” Dick gasped at his words.

“You do not have permission to talk. I don't want to hear your excuses. I told you to stay away from Roy, he’s a bad influence. Yet you sneaked him into a safe-house, you stole food from us to feed him and lied to my face for three weeks about it. When were you going to tell me? No, don’t speak. Imagine the bewilderment when I found him this morning−”

Dick jumped from his seat to stand up, “Did you hurt him?” The terror in his eyes hurt Bruce. He hid it under an impassive face, as he answered in the closest Batman’s voice he could channel, “No.”

“He’s my friend, I was just trying to help him.” The teenager’s voice cracked with the sentiment. “As far as I’m concerned, you should be proud I managed to fool you for such an extensive amount of time.”

 _Nice try,_ Bruce thought. As a matter of fact, Bruce was proud but that wasn’t enough to let Dick get away with lying. “I gave you an order, Robin. A very simple one. Do not lie to me, which includes do not omit any information, do not hide anything.”

“I didn’t lie, I just… You didn’t ask, I forgot to tell you.” Dick’s justification was weak. It did nothing to impress Bruce.

“Here it’s another simple order for you to follow: Stay away from Roy.” Bruce crossed his arms. “I won’t spare you a second time, Robin.”

“You can’t do that, you can’t tell me what to do, you are not my father!” It was easy to rile up the teenager outside patrol hours. Sometimes Bruce wondered if he had two different boys living in his house: Dick and Robin.

“I’m sure he would agree with me on this one.” _Just on this one_. Bruce had thought about it. He hadn’t precisely protected John Grayson’s kid. No, he knew he had failed him.

“You didn't know him, you have no idea what my father would do or say,” Dick said in a defensive tone.

“No, I didn't know him, and you didn't either. You were a kid when he died, you know nothing about your father.” Bruce spat without thinking. The tears on Dick's eyes didn't surprise him. Only a damned fool would have said something so cruel. Bruce didn't have a doubt he was on the wrong side, as he was an orphan who hated knowing he didn't really know who his father was.

“Damn you, Bruce!” This time Dick screamed. Bruce paid close attention to the door, Alfred could be anywhere near listening.

“Do not talk to me that way, Dick. We may work together but I’m still the one in charge. I know better about these things.” Sometimes Bruce wished that Dick was a normal kid, maybe in that way the kid wouldn’t be so good at winning arguments. 

“What's so hard to understand? Oliver kicked him out of his house with nothing, knowing damn well that Roy needs help. Roy is sick, he has an addiction. He is trying to get better but he needs support, he can't fight heroin addiction on his own. That’s nuts! Besides he’s in my team, he has my back. So gets used to having Roy around, I'm never, ever leaving him behind. Never!” Dick picked up his school bag and walked to the door, “I know a thing about John, my father, he wouldn't have tried to hurt me like that just to win a fight. He was a better man.” Dick slammed the door on his way out.

“So there is, another argument gone wrong,” Bruce observed the closed door for a while, brooding about everything and nothing. _It must be the Titan’s fault, or… He’s growing up. Or is it mine?_

* * *

**Present time.**

**London, May 19. 22:00 GMT+1**

It was another Gala in the list of events for Bruce Wayne. From time to time, he had to show to the world that he wasn’t just a Gotham myth. He was, positively, pretty much alive. Nonetheless, for Batman, this was a crucial moment to make a further advance on one of the missions he had kept for himself far too long. To his dismay, issues with aliens had a bad habit of surpassing him.

It was just a little more difficult to be Batman when he wasn’t wearing the suit. Batman didn’t have to be nice to other socialites, Batman didn’t have to smile to the press, and Batman definitely didn’t have bonds with anyone, or so he had told himself. The last thing was a lie he was glad to repeat to make his job more manageable. By the mercy of the Gods above, neither Robin or Nightwing or Alfred were there to contradict him.

For all practical purposes, Bruce considered the night went uneventful. The lack of attacks from supervillains was without exception a good sign. However, the night wasn’t over until he was able to talk to Selina and seal a deal with her. Likewise, he had to deal with _Clark_ , not Superman, Clark as frustrating, stalker press.

Bruce, who was disguised with the personality of _Brucie Wayne_ but playing as Batman on the inside, fell pretty near to miss Clark Kent. It didn’t help that the journalist was Superman, who had enhanced hearing and super speed to his benefit.

“Clark, what a particular coincidence.” Bruce greeted the other man in an unenthusiastic manner.

“Mr Wayne, lovely to see you here! Do you have a few minutes for some questions?” Clark had a huge smile on his face in contrast to the thin line Bruce’s lips made.

“No, I do not. Now if you excuse me I have places to go.” The true words Bruce wanted to say were: _Get out of my fucking way_ , but Brucie Wayne didn’t have a rude personality. Also, Alfred would be very disappointed in his public display of bad manners.

Clark stared at Bruce and then at the stairs, then back at him. “Places with Miss Kyle, I assume.” Bruce remained unbothered when Clark spoke. If he glanced up to the stairs, he would see Selina Kyle, and Clark would have his irrefutable proof.

“That’s none of your business.” Bruce lost his patient, Batman had to get rid of Clark.

“Bruce, if you follow her I’ll have to publish an article about you sneaking away with Miss Kyle. You know the Daily Planet is waiting for some dirt on your _Brucie’s adventures and his gals_.” Clark said apologetically.

Sometimes Bruce hated Clark Kent. He hated how the alien was able to find words to make his activities as Brucie Wayne appeared like a cartoon show for kids. The worst of all, Bruce found his sense of humour compelling. He would laugh if he didn’t want to punch the alien’s big head too.

“I deal with the press just fine, Clark, do not worry about me.” Bruce took two steps, only for Clark to insist by gripping Bruce’s shoulder.

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about _someone else_. I’m friends with _him_ too.” Clark was gentle with the way he phrased his words.

“If someone else gets troubled about what you write, then that someone else can come to me and clear the air.” Bruce damned the day Clark Kent had found about what Dick and he had. Of course, the alien would try to protect his dear friend Dick Grayson.

“I’m sorry.” Clark apologised genuinely, as _I have to write it, and I have to make you look a hopeless playboy_ was too much for Clark to say aloud. 

“Don’t be, it’s your bloody job.” Bruce was another type of honesty, he approached reality with less caution. “I wouldn’t ask you to risk it for something as unnecessary as this.”

“You could just say… that you wouldn’t ask because we’re friends too.” Clark smiled with his whole face as he articulated the word friends.

“I must be going,” Bruce added less dryly than usual.

Clark wasn’t over talking, he intercepted Bruce one more time. “You know, moments like these, you make my daily job more difficult than _the other one_.”

“Try wearing the cape more often then,” Bruce said unable to hold back the little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The small show of affection worked well enough on Clark, who finally made space for Bruce to keep going on his way. “See you later, _friend_.”

*******

Bruce found his way to the rooftop of the building. As far as he was concerned, in the eyes of others, he was Brucie Wayne on his way to get laid. By this hour, he was supposed to be drunk and horny, nearly unable to walk straight.

As expected, the rooftop was vacant of strangers. Selina was the only person waiting there for him.

“It took you long enough, Bat.” She sat on a metallic, red chair holding a glass with champagne in her hands.

“Hn.” Bruce acknowledged her words and sat in front of her on an amicable distance.

“It’s a manner of bad taste to make ladies wait.” Selina leaned on her left side, her long neckline showed to be more prominent. “Make it worth it.”

“There was a scout boy on my way,” Bruce explained in code. Selina chuckled, the scout boy was usually known as Superman, who was anything but a boy.

Selina swallowed a large mouthful of champagne, as Bruce stared at her. _Put yourself together,_ he warned himself. All at once, the weight of the precious diamonds hidden on his coat felt heavier than when he first got them. He had thought that asking Selina for a favour was a good idea, however, there was a possibility he had been making a fool of himself.

Bruce hesitated as he extracted the bag of diamonds from a concealed pocket of his coat. This had to be a good idea, for he had no time to find someone else to help him. “Here.” 

“For me?” Selina took the small bag from Bruce’s hands. “I guess I do have a good taste in men.” She winked.

“Selina. Stick to the plan, this is important,” Bruce reminded her with no quarrel in his voice. He was tired, the jet-lag didn’t go easy on him after two days in a row without sleeping.

“The plan, the plan, your plan, I think I remember.” Selina was amused, Bruce was concerned.

“Cat, it’s a matter of world security. Will it kill you to take this seriously?” There was Bruce talking through the interests of Batman.

“What an honour to save the world for you, Bat, my gratitude is infinite.” Selina bowed her head half dramatically to enhance her display of sarcasm. “I’m not deaf, I hear you well the first time you called me asking for help. I’m taking these baby diamonds with me and I will let you know how earthly or alien they are, and then I will keep them for myself, good deal right, Bat? 

“That’s not what I said, Selina,” Bruce replied, this time his tired tone was replaced with the seriousness of Batman.

“No, you didn’t, but you will make an exception for an old friend, won’t you?” She put her foot on his inner thigh. “Though we weren’t just friends, not really.” Bruce diverted his gaze from her to look at the skyline instead. The plan was falling behind in an unpredicted territory, it was unacceptable. Her foot was too close, and his body’s memory remembered how Selina’s touch felt. _It was good_ , the blood on his body testified running down to his cock. Then when the flashbacks of the memories came the wires on his brain got crossed. The tenderness of the skin touching him, the feeling of a soft, so soft tongue licking his erection, it wasn't hers, it was _his_. 

“Bruce, darling, don’t tell me you invite me here just for business,” Selina asked too close to his face.

“This is inappropriate.” Bruce reached her foot to remove it but she pulled back first.

“Who got you this shy with me?” She smiled entertained. Old habits were hard to break, Selina liked to play with birds and bats.

“That’s enough. You will bring back the diamonds, if they proved to be diamonds indeed, and not alien weapons in disguise.” Indeed, old habits were hard to break. To put the mission first, that was what Bruce liked the most.

“All ‘bout work then?” Selina tilted her head to get a good look on his face, in case she could find a crack on his façade to get her way. “Cool. Boring of you, but it is fine with me.”

She didn’t relent and Bruce was worn-out of hiding the obvious, so he yielded the truth in a whisper, “I’m with someone.” It didn’t take too much to notice that he had disclosed to her something he wasn’t comfortable revealing to others yet.

“Someone special I assume.” Selina inquired to a question that it was easy for Bruce to answer in his mind. He didn’t have to find the right words as his eyes gave him away. Selina saw the spark in his eyes which she took as confirmation. “I must say you are kind of hurting my pride, Bat. Just a little.” She didn’t lose her playful tone. Although deep inside Bruce knew it was a lie, he chose to believe her nonchalant act. Considering their complicated past, it was easier to pretend she didn’t care.

“You left.” It was a whisper charged with an accusatory feeling Bruce had tried to forget.

“I did. I left you first and you found somebody else. It is fine, no bad blood. No one is irreplaceable, though a _cat-woman_ can dream.” The drink fooled her, there was certain bitterness in her words.

The silence that followed was somewhat uncomfortable. Bruce walked dangerous lines. To keep this closeness with his past was a game for fools. The mission was a good excuse to lie to himself to come this far, to be this close to her. It would have had work wonders in the past, it wasn’t working anymore. The thrill to catch her didn’t run in his veins, but he still had a good time when they talked. Maybe, that was what lovers to friends were.

The cold breeze against his face was a reminder that he was still on the rooftop, the conversation wasn’t over. “Bring the diamonds back as soon as you get the results. You know where to find me. We don’t have much time to spare, keep that in mind.”

“Straight to the task. I miss the gentleman in you, like those times when you used to−” 

He interrupted her abruptly, “Superman is listening, another time, Selina.”

*******

The lights of the Gala were half out when Bruce found the right excuse to leave without rising suspicion. It was unheard off of the playboy to leave alone after a party.

Bruce escaped as fast as it was possible for someone who had a high profile. He sighed in relief when he got into his rented car and drove to the hotel. It was late, there was no much movement in the streets of London. He was far from home, he could use some distraction to give his mind something to focus.

All his intents to avoid the issue growing in his pants failed, his body demanded attention. This was an uncharacteristic behaviour. He wasn’t a helpless teenager to his carnal desires. He knew how to wait, he knew how to repress all his needs until he felt nothing. Apparently, his body had something else to say.

Back into the hotel, he got rid of his coat, tie and shoes. In an attempt to calm down his urges he turned on the TV. Bad choice, last time he spent a night with Dick they watched a movie, or at least they tried. Dick climbed on him and sucked him off. The mental picture of Dick Grayson with his cock on his mouth was way too enticing for Bruce to handle. _A cold shower must do_ , he lied to himself.

The cold shower didn’t work at all. There was no going back, he was hard, horny. To satisfy his increasing desire, Bruce ran his fingers through his cock, taking into the feeling of his skin. It was so much simple when Dick was around, he didn’t have to do anything but sit and watch. Dick was very enthusiastic when the time to give Bruce head came. Actually Bruce still held some reservations with Dick but it appeared more unfair to him now than ever. Bruce closed his eyes with the promise that next time he would encourage Dick to suck him off as much as his boy wanted.

In contrast with the cold temperature of the bathroom, his body was hot. Bruce didn’t have any interest in lasting long if he couldn’t get Dick’s warm mouth to help him. So he stroked himself in a steady rhythm, rubbing with his thumb over and back on the head of his cock. It was an efficient method to build up an orgasm, as efficient as everything Bruce did. Only this time he didn’t want efficient. He wanted it wet and messy. If Dick were here he would lick his head, suck it, kiss it and taste his precum. Bruce thought how filthy Dick looked playing with his hard cock, how good it suited him to be on his knees for Bruce. What a sight to behold.

Bruce moaned stroking his cock faster. He was close but his hand wasn’t enough. He missed the touch of his acrobat so much. If Dick were here, Bruce would push his cock into his warm mouth, and Dick would say something like “Don’t hurry a professional,” or “My name is Dick for a reason, I know what I’m doing.” Bruce would roll his eyes but he wouldn’t be mad, not really. Bruce wasn’t irritated by Dick’s need to chatter, no, it was the opposite. If Bruce were honest, he got hard just with the thought of giving Dick something better to do with his filthy mouth.

“Yes,” he hissed through his clenched teeth. Bruce thrust his hips in his fist, as he would thrust, no, fuck Dick’s mouth. “Fucking take it,” that what he would say to Dick, as he held his head with one hand and thrust into him relentlessly. And Dick would let him fuck him as much as Bruce wanted, as Dick tried not to choke so much on his fat cock.

“Damn,” the thought of Dick Grayson submitting to please Bruce did it for him. Bruce came with a deep groan, he cummed on his hand and abs. Another thing Dick would do, he would lick all his come. For the time being, another cold shower had to clean him.

The afterglow had a nice effect on his mood. Bruce went back to the living room to find his phone and decided it was a good time to call him. Bruce had no justifications to initiate a video call. There was no mission or special alert, but he wanted to hear his voice, to see him.

Dick was very different to him, he didn’t make him wait when he called. He had been brave all his life, long before Bruce had the chance to meet him. He spent his childhood nights flying with his parents with no net to catch him, thriving in the uncertainty of gravity to keep him safe. Fearless and handsome, with a good heart. What was there not to like? Bruce took the right choice, the best one.

Dick answered at the second ring. “Hey there, you call early than usual, is everything okay? Are you okay?” Bruce felt his heart warmth. Dick looked gorgeous with his messy hair, bright, big eyes looking at Bruce, as he licked and bit his lips as an anxiety response.

“I’m fine – I was thinking about you,” Bruce said ambiguously.

“You have a mission for us? Oh, wait, is this about the last mission we did for the League? I didn’t send you the photos of the evidence we gathered, I thought you had forgotten. Sorry, I’ll do it sometime this week, I swear. It won’t happen again, don’t go all Bat on me, please.” Dick looked at Bruce waiting for an answer but he got nothing. “I overwhelm you with how much I talk, right? Yeah, I know, sorry, I can’t stop.”

“It was another type of thinking, rather filthy,” Bruce mumbled but Dick heard him or read his lips or both.

“Oh…” The impish smile drawn in Dick’s face was priceless.

After that, Dick didn’t stop teasing Bruce until he got what he wanted. Bless his circus’ soul, Dick truly likes giving shows. Bruce wasn’t going to complain, he had a great view, and the show was for him.

Bruce watched with hunger how Dick touched himself, what he liked, what made him moaned. Bruce memorised his technique to take Dick apart the next time he got his hands on him.

“Please, talk dirty to me until I come,” Dick asked already on the edge, moving his hips erratically to find his release. Of course, in response to such request, Bruce let Dick know what a dirty cockslut he was, and how he was made for taking cock. The reward was to see Dick coming, with high moans and with Bruce’s name on his wet lips.

When Dick came down of his orgasm, he resumed the conversation asking Bruce about his day, and telling him about what he had been up to, with a great amount of detail and description. Bruce didn’t mind, that’s how Dick’s mind worked. He only stopped him when sleep took over him.

“Honey,” That was all Bruce had to say. Dick spoke a lot but he was a good listener too.

“I get it. Good night, B. I love you.” Though Bruce had already closed his eyes, he could hear the smile Dick had on his lips as he said goodbye.

“Thanks.” It was all Bruce managed to say.

* * *

**Titans Tower, May 20, 9:30 PDT**

It was a sunny, warm morning, with hot coffee and pancakes. It tasted like yellow ochre light, like the cape of his Robin’s suit that he used to wear. Dick slowed down, his thoughts were all over the place.

He took another sip of his coffee mug, hopeful that its warmness might help him to clear his mind. It was all wishful thinking as life didn’t work that way. In spite of all the evidence, Dick was willing to make a wish for his insides to cease shuddering, and for his hyperactive mind to rest.

He was the leader of the Titans, he had been for a long time, even when the team was on hold. They all recognised it was his place to lead, none of them liked the leadership role as much as he did. What his place was, it wasn’t the question.

Dick sighed with heaviness, he wanted to punch himself in the face to knock some sense into his head. The issue his team would face against the Justice League wasn’t about him. However, all that Dick could think it was how his team’s position would affect his relationship with Bruce. He was sure that he, as the representative of the Titans, would make both Batman and Bruce very angry. It wasn’t the first time that a difference of opinion had caused grief between them. Though it felt intrinsically more personal this time.

 _So self-centred, get over yourself, Grayson. This is not about you, it can’t be about you. You are here to help others, not yourself._ Dick thought with unpleasantness that engulfed his mind. 

The early worry he had for a meeting that was yet to come showed itself worthless. Dick was running in circles, getting nowhere. His concern would only take him so far, particularly to the darkest places of his mind, which had nothing but sorrow to offer him.

“Dude, your morning thinking is scarily loud!” Roy stood in front of him with a mug of coffee on hands. He had bed hair and wore a shiny red pyjama.

“So? Your pyjama is so gleaming it offends my eyes and I still put up with your annoying ass,” Dick said with a playful smile on his face. He was happy to have his friend back. Roy could read him as well as Donna did.

The redhead served himself a pile of pancakes on a plate and took a seat in front of Dick. “What ya’ doin’?” Roy asked with his mouth full. 

Dick’s first reaction was to tease Roy for being gross. It was an easy way out to not answer his question. He opted for being honest. As difficult as it was, he had to let go of his tendency of lying to the team, and Roy was a safe place to begin. “I’m reading… these files, which contained information related to kryptonite biology.”

“You stole them from Bruce, right?” Roy grinned with knowing eyes that imply way too much for his liking. Dick didn’t want to dig what was going on inside his friend’s head.

“It’s not stealing if I didn’t take it. I only made a copy of the files for the team’s sake. For the next meeting I have with the Justice League, they want to talk about Conner. I think – no, I know the concerns they have regarding his origins, he was designed by Lex after all. So I want to let them know that we can handle him. He has made great progress during his stay. He’s part of our team, he belongs here. I don’t want to give them any reasons to think that they have to take him away from us.”

“Dude, they can’t do that. Actually, they can, he’s a minor but why would they do that? Surely Clark doesn’t think that the kid is a danger. And Diana, she’s the epitome of love. And Barry? He’s cool, he doesn’t play power games like these. The Lanterns, Martian, Shazam, no, they will understand Conner is a kid, not a menace... Who in their right mind would vote against him anyway? He’s a good kid, traumatised but a good one nonetheless.” Roy saw the serious expression in Dick’s face, it could only mean one thing. “Ah, ah, aaah, your Bat.” 

Dick crossed his arms, and elaborated, “Look, Batman hopes for the worst and fears for the best. That’s his job. All I have are assumptions, but I think I know him well enough to have a good idea about what he will say.”

“It seems to me that you’re going easy on him, Wonder Boy. Tell me, do we need to buy you flowers as well?”

“You do know better than anyone that I’d fight him for the right cause,” Dick stared at him with steel eyes. For Dick it was poor taste to bring up the things he had done for others, he had no intentions to manipulate them through good deeds. And yet, he needed Roy to remember that he wasn’t spineless when it came to standing up for what he believed. All things considered, Roy was one of the few who had witnessed how far Dick could go to help the ones he loved.

“I do remember what you did for me, and for that, I’d be forever thankful.” Roy acknowledged. The sincerity of his words made Dick softened his gaze, he smiled a little. Though Roy wasn’t done talking. “But as you can tell, there is a reason you are my friend, and it is probably because there is not a Wayne in your last name.”

 _If Bruce asked… Dick Grayson-Wayne sounds good,_ the treacherous side of his mind thought. _No, Bruce would never ask, not on this life, but if he ever dared to ask… Wait, the conversation wasn’t about this._

“Dick?” He heard Roy called for him.

_Focus, Conner is your priority._

Dick pulled himself together, “Trust me, Roy. Trust me that I will do everything that it’s in my hands to protect Conner’s best benefits. Trust me to do whatever I have to do to help him, as I would do for each member of this team.”

“I trust you, Dick. But man, you gotta admit that you get blind by your tendency to see the best side on others. You picked up Deathstroke’s daughter for God’s sake! Besides, I know that Batman isn’t above using manipulation against you.” Dick clenched his teeth. He wanted to punch his friend’s face and then, perhaps, thanked him for his honesty.

“He only does what he thinks it is necessary to do for the greatest good. I don’t always agree, but I know he means well. That’s why I’ll be fully prepared when the time comes to stand up for Conner and the team. Now please, drop it.” 

Dick wasn’t lying. Batman wasn’t supposed to be a man but a symbol. Batman had to take hard decisions that sometimes compromised his relationships with others. Only he did it for what he thought was the most effective way to save people. Bruce’s heart was in the right place, even when his actions were not. Dick had an advantage that his teammates often didn’t recognise. He had spent most of his years as Robin learning how to navigate between the two sides Bruce had: common sense and questionable decisions. 

“It’ll be fine, leave Batman to me, I can handle him.” Dick crossed his arms and leaned towards the screen of his laptop. If he was busy reading, Roy would have to leave him alone. It worked for a while, Roy ate the rest of his pancakes in silence, until none of them bore the silence.

“So, no fun for you until you get the green light for the League?” Roy asked with hope to convince Dick to relax. “Dick, isolation from friends and the good side of life may work for him but it doesn’t work for you.”

“Roy, no. I’m not ready to-” he lost track of his words. He got an email notification from his subscription of the Daily Planet. Clark had published an article. He clicked on the link without a second thought. Somehow his brain didn’t consider the title “The Prince of Gotham Does It Again” a huge red flag. He saw the photo of Bruce walking upstairs, chasing a mysterious woman, who was nothing but familiar to Dick. 

His heart missed a beat, it was offensive of his most vital organ to stop working when Dick needed it. He said to himself: _Grow up, this is how the press works. This is some shady, petty article Clark has to write to get food on his table._ Then again, it didn't change the fact that as free soul as he was, Dick was simply bad at sharing. 

S _haring what? He’s not yours, not really,_ his mind clarified. _Stop it, we’ve been here before. Don’t believe what the media says, you should know better than that,_ the good side of his mind said. _Yeah? You think so? Then why don’t you call your Uncle Clark and ask him what happened?_ The bad side of his mind said. As expected, the good side didn’t have much to answer besides _I trust Bruce, end of the conversation._

Why would he say anyway? If he came clean to Clark about the nature of the relationship he had with Bruce, chances are that Clark would disapprove. He would probably applaud Bruce for taking Selina back. The worst was that Dick liked Selina, he did, and he would support Bruce anyway. He would be his best-man if Bruce asked, and if that were to happen, well, maybe this time, Dick would listen to Dinah Lance and took some Ativan to calm his mind.

Roy, who had been there standing watching Dick zoned out for about five minutes, poked Dick’s forehead. “Hello, Planet Earth calling to Dick? Nightwing?”

Dick heard him. “Alright, night out, you and me.”

“That’s what I said but you give me crap every time I tried to something for our friendship.” Roy didn’t try to restrain his irritation.

“Fuck me, I’m an idiot. We are going out, have fun like the old times.”

“Dudeeeee,” Roy hugged him so tight Dick could melt. They were both touch starved, so neither of them had to pretend they weren’t keen on physical affection.

“Oh my God! Get a room you two!” Rose said as she and Rachel walked into the room.

“Rose, don’t be mean, this is a gay-friendly Tower. In fact, I think we should paint a huge rainbow on the front of the building.” Rachel said.

“As if Batman would approve,” Rose replied sceptically.

“Batman is all in for the gay rights, as for the rainbow? Tsk, not so much but we don’t have to ask. Dick here could get onto his knees and beg.” Roy quipped casually. Dick buried his gaze on Roy, clenching his hands to not murder the jester he had for a friend.

“He does? That’s progressive for a rich white-middle-age man,” Rachel said incredulously.

“You would be surprised how much he does.” Roy winked at Dick.

Dick ignored his comment and continued to work on his investigation of Conner’s origins. He would later talk to Roy and tell him: “Stop it, man, nobody has to know what I do with my sexual life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) By the way, in the flashbacks when Dick is underage I'm writing the relationship as platonic.  
> 2) If you like what I'm writing, don't be shy, let me know in the comments. Share your comments, theories, questions.  
> 3) Sick and alone on quarantine, don't be surprised if the writer writes more fluff to ease their heart.


	5. It Happened Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna and Barbara cared too much for certain batboys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] Thank you for the 96 kudos and all the comments 💙 English isn’t my second language, so it means a lot to me that there are people out there enjoying what I'm writing.
> 
> [x] This chapter has more than 9000 words, it counts for the chapters I was supposed to update on June 16th and 28th.
> 
> [x] Is this chapter another self-indulgent excuse for me to write fluff and sexy times? Yes, indeed.

**Titans Tower, May 25, 13:13  
**

For the past months, Donna had been following Dick like a shadow around the Tower. She didn't leave his side unless there was someone else trying to talk to Dick in private. She hadn’t asked what she wanted to ask and he hadn’t made it simple for her either. They both were aware of the question hanging in the air. Then again, both were stubborn.

Dick saw Donna as his older sister, who had been a shoulder to cry when Dick was shattered and lonely. In return, Dick hoped he had been a good younger brother. Perhaps he was a little too much of a nuisance, bloody-minded as hell. Dick was a fierce protector by nature, he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t a trained trait that he could unlearn. It was who he was within his core. On a similar note, Donna was as well a protector, brave and stronger than a regular human. It must have been good luck that they both found each other. Dick must have done something right in another life to deserve Donna Troy in his life. 

“You are staring,” Donna threw at him a stress ball.

”’Cause you’re doing the _overprotective older sister thing_ instead of just asking me what’s going on,” Dick threw back the ball to her.

”I haven’t—” Donna tried to deny the overbearing behaviour she had had towards Dick, "It's not what you think," she fidgeted nervously in the sofa.

”If it makes you feel better, shoot your questions,” Dick reassured her.

”Does he let you talk about _it_?” Straight to the point. That was Donna Troy, she didn’t lose time. She asked two questions in one. The keyword _let_ , abusive partners often would push for their counterparts to ask for permission to do simple tasks and restrict them from having friends.

”Really?” Dick inquired as he reclined his back on the loveseat. “Roy asked the same question. I don’t get it, is it because Batman is scary? Or is it Bruce’s reputation as a playboy?”

“Answer the damn question, Grayson,” Donna’s voice was firm, unwilling to play with Dick’s scattered conversations.

Dick took a moment to read her body language, she was worried. Everything indicated that Donna would likely murder Bruce to protect Dick. All she needed was a reason, besides the obvious one, which was that Bruce was sleeping with his ex-sidekick. Dick found her worry amusing, why did his friends think Bruce had manipulated him into a relationship? Yeah, Dick was aware of the imbalance in power that their relationship had. However, Dick wasn't spineless, he could make a decision on his own.

"No, Donna, he doesn’t abuse me and he doesn’t control me. And no, I’m not saying this because he blackmailed me."

Donna smiled, "Good."

"I know I can be a bit dramatic when Bruce and I fight, I say a lot of things I don't mean," Dick added with a pinch of guilt. He had to admit that he had contributed a lot for the Titans to mistrust Bruce. When he was Robin, he used to come to the Tower to complain about whichever quarrel Bruce and he was having at the moment. Between the Titans and he, the difference was that Dick —sooner or later— forgot why Bruce and he were fighting, meanwhile, his friends didn't forget that fast.

"Don’t dismiss your feelings, Dick. You had your reasons to be mad at him. You love him — When you love someone, even the smallest offences hurt deeper. Also don’t feel bad for damaging the perception we had of Bruce. I believe he does the right thing, his heart is in the right place. But just because he’s a good crime fighter, it doesn’t mean he would be the same as a lover. Success doesn't equal kindness, one can be extraordinary as a warrior and still suffer from ineptitude in relationships. Besides, I’m your friend and sister first, and I’m aware of his obsessive, control issues, so I have to make sure you’re okay, just in case, Dick," she explained with the use of _wisdom far beyond your age_ that Amazons possessed.

"Thanks," he wasn't expecting her thoughtful words, Dick didn't have a smart thing to say. 

"Okay then... Tell me all about it, who made the first move, how you both get back together and all that stuff." This time, Donna's voice was softer.

Dick opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, twice. All this time, he had kept the details of his relationship with Bruce to himself. It wasn't even a request coming from Bruce. It was Dick's own doing, he didn't wish for external opinions to meddle in what they had. He wasn't blind, he understood that their relationship was... rather unusual.

"Remember the fires of California of last year? Well, the League —Yes, Batman— asked me to help them, —Don’t get angry at me, it’s not my fault Diana didn’t call you—. You know how these things go, things happen quick... So I got injured, my back got fire. The suit took most of the damage but it hurt like hell. I was gonna come back here to rest but Bruce offered me assistance and...”

**~o~o~o~  
**

_“Here, let me help you,” Bruce stood behind his back, using cotton pads with iodine to clean his wounds. Dick winced at the touch as Bruce stopped him by tangling his arm around Dick’s torso.  
_

_“It hurts, I know,” Bruce spoke in a low voice into his ear, "but I need you to stay still, the anaesthesia will help with the pain, the effect will kick in five minutes.”_

_“I’m not five years old, Bruce, you don't have to treat me as one,” Dick protested._

_Bruce snorted at his remark. Dick was adamant to remind Bruce that he was his own independent man. Nobody was asking, Bruce already knew, but Dick wanted to voice his independence. More so, he needed to convince himself. The issue with adulthood was that it didn’t come with a book instruction, there was no way to be sure if you were doing the right thing for yourself._

_Bruce worked through his wounds in silence, giving Dick enough time to overthink what had happened that day. For example, it didn't make sense that Bruce had found him when he was leaving the city. As far as Dick was concerned, his car didn't have a tracker.  
_

_"_ _Bruce, a question," Bruce grunted as a response, which Dick interpreted as "you have my attention."_

_“You intercepted me on a random point on my way back to the Tower. I programmed my car so you can't hack it, which leaves only one option... There's another tracker inside me."  
_

_Bruce didn't say a thing, it was unnecessary. He laid his hand on Dick’s inner upper thigh and by experience, Dick knew that was the answer he was asking for. “Right there," Dick said and Bruce hummed in confirmation._

_"At least say something, Bruce, it's courtesy after you invaded my body with your tech," Dick's tone was weary, he was tired of trying to make Bruce apologise._

_“Its purpose is to reinforce your safety, among other things,” Bruce tightened the bandages around Dick's torso as if asking Dick to shut up or face the consequences.  
_

_Dick wasn't one to give up, he wasn't going to drop the issue until he got an apology from Bruce. "You could have at least talk to me before implanting a bunch of trackers inside my body. Do you understand? It’s my body, I had a right to know. You inserted them while I was unconscious, Bruce, that’s creepy, even for a creepy man like you," Dick made his best effort to channel anger through his voice. It was hard to get angry when the anaesthesia was shutting down his mind._

_“My deepest apologies for caring about your well-being,” Bruce replied with sarcasm and then, he injected Dick with something else._

_“What did you inject me with? What was that?” Dick grabbed Bruce’s arm, "and don’t change the topic of conversation. I’m not some product made by Wayne Enterprises that you can mark and track for delivery. Am I clear?"  
_

_"These are antibiotics, Richard," Bruce replied emphasising Dick's name._

_“If you had asked, I would have said yes,” Dick confessed with less resentment in his voice. Bruce, who was in the opposite of the room cleaning the medical equipment, refused to acknowledge him. Dick would have added something else but the anaesthesia took over him.  
_

_Next time Dick woke up, he blinked his eyes and looked at the clock. He had lost track of his surroundings for about twenty minutes. Next to him, Bruce sat on a chair with a book on his hands._

_“I’m back to the land of the living,” Dick announced feeling a little stupid for his remark as if Bruce were blind and couldn’t notice he had opened his eyes._

_Bruce put the book down and addressed Dick. "It happened after The Riddler thought it would be hilarious to bury you alive and give me a riddle to find your location. You were unconscious when I found you. You... The idea of you inside a coffin was unbearable. The Riddler thought he was killing Robin, but to me, it wasn't just Robin who was dying. It was you, Dick, my protegeé, my boy." Bruce halted what Dick was going to say by putting a thumb on Dick's lips. "Save your interrogation skills for someone who didn't teach them to you. I know what your next question will be and here’s what you have to know: I am sorry for not telling you. I don't have an excuse, I knew it was wrong and as time passed, confronting you became an impossible task. I know what I didn't tell you the truth, it was because I understood I had betrayed your trust. And I thought that If I ever told you, then you would finally realise who I was, I thought that would be the day you would leave."_ _  
_

_"You have practised this answer many times, haven't you?"  
_

_"I'm not lying when I say that I tried to tell you many times, Dick," Bruce didn't hide the pain on his facial expression, for that Dick was grateful. He needed to see that Bruce truly cared._

_"But you did not," Dick's tone revealed nothing of his verdict. Though Bruce seemed to have anticipated the worst. Dick could tell for Bruce looked to the door and sighed heavily. Dick sympathised with what Bruce was feeling, he had been there with the Titans before. His pride didn't dare to count the many times they had threatened him with living due to his tendency to lie by omission._

_"I'm not leaving you, B," Dick took Bruce's hand and entwined his fingers with him, resting both on his chest, "you made mistakes, and I’m still mad but it doesn’t change how I feel about you," the anaesthesia was taking over Dick's speech but before drifting into sleep, he managed to say, "hate the L-word as much as you want but I love you, I do..."_

_“Dickie,” He heard Bruce said, and as Dick fell asleep, he felt Bruce kissing his lips, he must have been dreaming._

_The next time he was awake, Bruce wasn’t there. He left a note saying:_

_I left you a bag with all the meds you need for your treatment. Get well soon,_

_B_

**~o~o~o~**

With furrowed eyebrows and annoyment written on her face, Donna said “What the—? So he drugged you, confessed betraying you, then kissed you and left?”

Dick sighed, here it was the reaction he had been dodging, “You make it sound bad, Donna.”

“It sounds as exactly as it was,” Donna argued.

"No, no, it’s not like that. This is why I don’t talk about it, you guys don’t get it—"

Donna interrupted him abruptly, "Then explain, Dick, because it sure sounds a lot like problematic behaviour.”

"When I was still in Gotham, we used to kiss —No, I wasn’t a minor, Donna,— We kissed when missions went wrong, when the other was hurt or in the hospital, or drugged with morphine. It was the only time that Bruce would let go, either because he was too high to care that he was snogging his ex-ward or because I was the one high and I don’t know, maybe he liked to think that I wouldn’t remember. Though he knew that I did remember when we kissed. He's a good kisser, hard to forget,” Dick couldn't fight the blush that covered his face.

"Dick—"

"Save it, who cares if it was problematic behaviour? It was our problematic, consensual behaviour,” Dick couldn't care less what other thought. If those kisses had been a mistake, then he was proud of being a big fool.

“Just tell me if I get it right: You both used to kiss under questionable circumstances and then pretend that it didn’t happen?”

”Yes, so?” Dick grunted.

For a moment, Donna appeared satisfied with his answer, until a realisation hit her. "Wait a minute! You were twenty-three or something when you moved out of the Manor for good? But Bruce had been engaged with Selina for about a year, and you, you and him?”

“Only when they weren’t engaged and well there was other time —No, don’t look at me like that, let me finish before making assumptions— they were on a break, alright? Two weeks break, Bruce was sad and grumpy, more than usual. He hid in the penthouse, alone, not even Alfred was allowed to get in, so I kept him company." Sometimes Dick forgot how much Donna knew about his private life, he should have assumed she would connect some uncomfortable nodes.

”You mean you entertained him,” Donna laughed mischievously at him, it wasn't hard to infer what kind of entertainment she was talking about.

“Yes and no. Okay, yes, we had sex and it was great. But you made it sound as if it was all about sex and it wasn’t. We had a special connection. We shared something good until Selina came back. I took the decision to step back, break or no break, they were engaged.”

”Bruce didn’t say anything when you left?” Donna asked one of the questions Dick dreaded the most. Why didn't Bruce run after him? Why?

"You mean if he tried to stop me? No, he said he agreed. He enlisted all these cheap excuses, that I was too young, that I needed to see the world and be with other people, that I should date guys my age.” Dick did poor work to hide his frustration.

Donna noticed his pain and spoke in a gentler tone, she even gave him a comforting smile, "And you were okay with that?"

Dick’s gaze darkened and his grip on his cup of coffee hardened. Donna meant no harm, she would drop the topic if it caused Dick pain. "Okay, you don’t have to tell me if it still hurts."

Dick felt his eyes getting wet, “no, it’s fine,” his voice was barely a whisper. "I kept it to myself because I was ashamed of my feelings for him but the secret made me sick. I was a mess, hardly getting any sleep, hardly eating. I missed him so damn much. I thought I could be happy knowing he was happy, y'know, I clung to the romantic idea of wishing him the best, to be happy for him... I thought I was mature, or at least that I was a good person. It turned out I was neither."

Donna stood up from her seat and rushed to hug Dick, "No, stupid, aah... just so you know, you don't have to handle all on your own. You can talk to me, Wonder Boy."

Dick smiled sincerely and hugged her tightly. "Thanks, Wonder Girl." 

"So what about now? What happened afterwards? You guys talked...?” 

Dick snorted, "You mean talking about our feelings and what we both wanted from the relationship if there was a relationship at all? Donna, we are talking about Bruce, of course, we didn’t talk about it..."

**~o~o~o~**

_"So I guess this is all unless there is something else I can do for you?” Dick asked as he folded his Nightwing uniform to place it in its designated special briefcase.  
_

_“As a matter of fact, there is. Within a week, I have lunch with the board of Wayne Enterprises here in California, I want you to come with me,” Bruce closed the short physical distance between them and proclaimed it non-existing. What game was he playing anyway?_

_"You — what?" Dick wasn’t paying attention to what Bruce had been saying. The heat of Bruce’s body and his cologne were too distracting to his senses._

_"I want them to meet you. As you know I spend most of my time in Gotham, I’d like to have some eyes here," Bruce elaborated.  
_

_Dick watched him cautiously, mouth widened in shock, "As in you want me to spy them for you, right?"_

_“Exactly. They would think of you as a consultant, not supervisor, we don’t want to scare them. Specifically, I want you to find the mole Lex Luthor put in Wayne Chemistry Labs. I haven’t identified a motive yet, but we’re talking about Luthor, it must be something atrocious.”_

_”Do you have Batgirl on this too?” Dick could really use her help. He had great hacking skills, but Barbara? She was exceptional, a genius for sure._

_"She is, I presume she will contact you soon.” Dick rolled his eyes internally, of course, Bruce had assumed Dick would say yes, and he had told Barbara in anticipation to call him._

_“Anything out of the norm, or suspicious, contact me immediately," Bruce buried his fingers in Dick’s smooth hair. A gentle pull, tilting his head slightly up, was the only sign Dick got before Bruce_ _kissed him._

 _’_ _Breath, breath, breath, breath,’ Dick chanted in his mind. It was too good to be true. He blinked his eyes twice to be sure he hadn’t been daydreaming with Bruce. Dick daydreamed Bruce getting his way with him more than what it was healthy to do. And he wasn’t even counting the number of times he masturbated thinking about all the dirty things Bruce and he could do together, only if Bruce didn’t play so hard to get._

_Bruce ended the kiss and stayed a few inches apart from Dick's face, waiting for a reaction._

_"Did I misread you?" Dick denied with his head, he didn’t trust himself with speaking. Maybe he would say a wrong answer and Bruce would freak out and pretend the kiss didn’t happen.  
_

_Words were dangerous territory among them, so Dick kissed him back with open lips, locking his arms around Bruce’s neck. Dick had missed terribly those lips kissing him back._ _Wet lips, breathe, teeth and tongues. Dick fought to make the kiss longer, as Bruce struggled to say something._

_"Dick," Bruce insisted.  
_

_“No, please, I want this, I want you so much,” Dick shut up Bruce locking their lips together one more time and moaned into Bruce's mouth.  
_

_The kiss didn't escalate, a few minutes later, Bruce received an emergency call from Gotham and left to seize an Arkham breakout.  
_

_Dick didn’t hear anything from Bruce until the day of the meeting. The only one who kept in touch was Batman —cold, indifferent Batman,— who didn’t make a single effort to acknowledge their kiss. Batman had the advantage over him, it would be unprofessional for Nightwing to mention anything about his personal life during a Justice League meeting. Of course, he had the option of cursing Bruce in his mind, that worked to release his stress too.  
_

_When the time came, Dick met Bruce in a hotel suite. They were alone, Bruce couldn't dodge his questions. "_ _B, about last time we met, I think we need to talk about what happened."_

_"Your tied needs adjusting," Bruce fitted Dick’s tie tighter. It was a tactic of evasion, just typical Bruce.  
_

_"Don’t ignore me," Dick pleaded. He loathed the fragile tone of his voice but it wasn’t like Bruce was playing fair anyway._

_Bruce took Dick’s chin on his fingers, gently caressing his lips with his thumb. Dick's skin shivered as he leaned into Bruce to kiss him with passion and hunger. Dick had missed the thrill of sharing something quite this intimate with Bruce. Closing his eyes and letting himself dive into the feeling of Bruce around him, surrounding him fully with his presence.  
_

_Bruce shared his hunger and kissed him with abandon, biting his lips and invading his mouth with his tongue. Dick felt the strength of Bruce's arms pushing his back against the wall, “hold onto me,” Bruce said between kisses. Dick tangled his legs on Bruce’s waist and circled his arms around Bruce’s neck, holding onto him._

_Bruce made a trail of light kisses on Dick’s neck to his earlobe, to whisper into his ear “I’ve missed you, pretty boy.” This was what Dick needed, to be praised and kissed with desire by a partner who couldn't keep his hands to himself._

_"My phone—" Bruce broke the kiss to pick up an incoming call as he pressed Dick harder against the wall. The thought of Bruce holding him as if he weighed nothing, well, it did things to him._

_“Alright, —— I hear you, Lucius, I’m on way, —— No need to make a fuss, —— I’m not with a —— I said I’m on my way,” Bruce ended the call and brushed his lips against Dick’s._

_“We should be going,” Bruce announced.  
_

_"No, I want—" Dick hesitated. Of all his past lovers, Bruce had been part of the few who didn't complain about his high sexual drive. Yet it had been a long time since that last time they had been together, Dick wasn't really sure what kind of boundaries he was supposed to have around Bruce._

_"Me too," Bruce dropped him in the couch smoothly. "We can spend the night together."  
_

_Well, hell yeah, finally Bruce was speaking Dick's language. "Yeah, I'd like that."_

**~o~o~o~**

Donna had her hand covering his mouth in disbelief. Dick waited for her to say something and break the silence. Whatever —bad or good— was better than nothing.

"You’re telling me that he asked for a favour, just to have an excuse to snog you in a hotel room, and then he ignored your questions and proposed to fuck you?"

"Why do you keep making it sound worse than it was? I was into it, we spent the night together and it was, actually, great," Dick added shamelessly.

“Oh my holy Amazons, you like it!” Donna's eyes widened in something Dick catalogued as a shock. As for him, Dick bit his low-lip because yeah, he liked it a lot.

”I can’t believe you! Do you have some sort of dignity, Dick? I do not understand. If a man ever did that to me, if a man ever dared to manhandle me or boss me around like if I were his bitch, oh, oh, oh, he would be so dead, six-foot underground, buried alive,” Donna had raised her voice during her speech, loud enough for Dick to worry that Conner may have listened.

"Hey, the kids are taking a nap, so let's keep it low," Donna snorted at Dick and mumbled "mother-hen."

Dick sighed and decided that it was a good moment to explain to Donna about certain human's needs. After all, she could be half-human but she had been raised and trained by Amazons.  
  
“Look, I’d spent all my life in self-control mode. As a child, I was raised with a regime similar to an Olympic athlete, long hours of exercise and a special diet. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were wonderful with me, caring and loving. If I had wanted to quit, they would have allowed it. But when I was training with them, it was a matter of life and death, I had to be my best to not fall. Then I went to live with Bruce and I became Robin. I dedicated my teenager years to protect others, living for people I didn’t t even get to know their name after I rescued them. Then I met you and we formed the Titans, we were equal but I was the team leader. I still am and I’m not complaining, it’s just — it’s a lot to handle. In order for me to do the job right, I have to care for the people we save as much as I care for the safety of the team. I wouldn’t change a thing Donna but I need a safe space to let go. I need to have a space in which I don’t have to be in charge.”

"And is Bruce that safe place with his unreliable attitude?” Donna inquired in scepticism.

"It's not about Bruce, it's about me. When I have sex I... how can I say this? I let my partner take care of me. Look, I get it, Amazons’ nature is not one to submit to a man. I’m wired differently, I don’t find it degrading to let a man take the lead over me, just in sex, and as long as I'm consenting." By the time he finished talking, Dick's face was red as a tomato.

"Unbelievable, Grayson! Considering that temper of yours, I thought you would be into collaring guys and whipping their asses with a leash," Donna teased him with a playful smile hanging on her face.

"Well, I'm a box of surprises," Dick returned to her a playful smile of his own."

Donna rolled her eyes at him with dramatic effort and served herself another cup of coffee. Dick took the opportunity to stand up to close the windows. It was starting to rain. It reminded him of Gotham and its endless rainy days. 

Cold Gotham, endless rain, unforgiving crime city. And Dick was going back by his own will, maybe Donna was right, he was insane. 

"Hey, Dick! You are zoning out on me again, and you haven’t even told me how he asked you to be his... lover, boyfriend, partner?"

"Damn it, Donna, you keep asking difficult questions. Try not to judge, okay?"

**~o~o~o~**

_This was his opportunity to ask, he couldn’t blow this one up. Dick had promised himself that he would have a serious talk with Bruce. Until then, Dick had been satisfied with the friends with benefits arrangement they appeared to have. However, it was becoming too compromising for Dick. Unlike Bruce, he couldn’t keep his feelings at bay when it came to relationships._

_The motivational speech he gave to himself —C’mon, stand your ground. You can do this, you got this,— had certainly made a better impression on his brain that morning, as Bruce hadn’t been standing next to him._

_The quest to have a serious talk had failed enormously the moment Dick decided to step into a room with a bed, Bruce following behind him. How foolish of him. The pull between them was electrifying, almost supernatural. Most of the time, Dick was fine with it. However, sometimes it was ridiculous, Dick was an adult, his teenager hormonal years had ended a long time ago. Yet there he was, climbing Bruce like a tree and losing his ability to form a coherent sentence._

_In the rising heat of their bodies, he let himself go. What else he could do? If he couldn’t fight it, he might as well enjoy it.  
_

_After Bruce was done with him, Dick was merely a puddle of tremble limbs. He nearly gave up and listened to his body begging him to take a nap._ _Nevertheless, Dick was a man on a mission and he was determined to finish it tonight.  
_

_Dick poked Bruce in the chest until he got his attention. Bruce, who wasn’t up to deny himself the nap, turned his head towards Dick to ask: “something wrong?”_

_Dick saw concern in his eyes and Dick’s chest tightened. Bruce with worry in his eyes was the equivalent of Dick’s puppy eyes. The guilt practically overcame him when he asked: “Remember I said we had to talk?"_

_"Now?" Bruce’s eyebrows frowned and his eyes narrowed a lot as Batman did behind his cloak. Dick smiled with fondness, he found his Bat-reflexes adorable. Probably, he was the only person in Earth who thought of them as something endearing._

_"I have to leave in a few hours," Dick explained as he did his best to compose himself and recover his serious mood._

_"Then talk," Bruce said with a resigned tone as he closed his eyes._

_"Hey, don’t fall sleep on me while I’m talking,” this time, Dick poked Bruce in the forehead._

_"I’m listening," Bruce replied but resisted to open his eyes._

_Dick glared at Bruce's stupidly handsome face. It irritated him how much he wanted to kiss him even when he was angry at him. Dick could deal with Bruce avoiding conversations but did he have to dismiss him like that?_ _"Would you, please, stop your pettiness and open your eyes?_ _You’ve been avoiding this conversation, and you’re so lazy with emotions that if I don’t ask, I bet you wouldn’t even try to discuss what's going on between us.”_

_Finally, Bruce looked back at him. Although he wasn't expecting to find confusion in Bruce's eyes, anger would have made more sense._

_"What are you talking about, Dick?"  
_

_"Really? You don’t follow?" Dick huffed, ignorance was bliss.  
_

_Dick noticed Bruce taking a pause to answer. He glanced to the right and the left, around the room, as if looking something or someone that could explain to him the reason for Dick's sudden bad mood. Apparently, he didn't find a clue. "No, I do not."_

_Dick's hands squeezed the sheets as he spoke with a low, controlled voice. "What are we?"  
_

_"What’s that supposed to mean?" Bruce asked with genuine confusion showing in his voice._

_Dick had prepared a speech against the more common versions Bruce used to escape uncomfortable conversations: the angry Bruce, the emotionless Bruce, the I-have-amnesia Bruce, the I-couldn't-care-less Bruce, and the I-have-to-go-I-have-a-meeting Bruce. Instead, the version of Bruce that he was confronting met him with bewilderment.  
_

_Rather than feeling better, Dick felt crushed. If Bruce, who was always prepared for everything, hadn't anticipated this talk, then, they definitely weren't on the same page. Beyond that, he decided to speak his heart out, he had nothing to lose. "What it clearly means, Bruce. We see each other for missions and then we fuck. Then we hardly talk until there's another mission. We repeat the same cycle, over and over again, but where do we stand? Who am I to you? What does it mean to you what we are doing? Because from where I stand, it looks like I'm your stress reliever. And to be clear, I'm not blaming you, I let it happen because I like what we have... It's just... I think we, I think we had a connection... We could be something more, we could be... Damn, I phrased it better in my mind."  
_

_Dick felt his heart had moved to reside in his throat, pounding loud beat by beat. "Say something, anything!" He panicked, he put his cards on the table and Bruce seemed to have lost his ability to speak._

_Dick sat on the bed to give Bruce his back. His humiliation had been enough, Bruce didn't have to see his face red on shame. Dick didn't get to see Bruce's face when the other man reached out for him, however, he felt Bruce's warm arms embracing him tight against his chest. Despite his anger, Dick didn't counter the hug. It was warm, safe, and right._

_Bruce spoke into his ear, "I assumed we were already together."_

_"How in the world was I supposed to know that if you never said it?" The single reason Dick didn't scream at Bruce and disentangled from the embrace was that Bruce's chest against his back was a sweet spot for him.  
_

_"I..." Bruce tried.  
_

_"B, just because I can read your body's moves doesn't mean that I know what's in your mind," Dick reminded him, the anger slowly leaving behind his tone.  
_

_"Well, I thought it was clear, do you think I'm this friendly just with anyone?" Now Dick thought Bruce was messing with him._

_"Dick turned back to face Bruce and debated his point. "First of all, Bruce, how dare you? I'm not a Martian, I can't read minds, and second of all, I've seen Brucie being this friendly, and more, in parties with just anyone—" Bruce stifled his chattering with a hungry kiss, the energy Dick had for talking was similar to the one Bruce had for kissing Dick. And the kiss would have lasted more if Bruce hadn't been —unintendedly— laughing into the kiss._

_"You're laughing," Dick pointed out and Bruce shut him up with another kiss. Dick insisted, "why are you laughing?" Bruce tried using the same tactic but Dick hid his face on the croak of Bruce's right shoulder. "No, tell me why are you laughing," Dick pushed Bruce to laid fully on the bed, or better said, it was Bruce who let him sit on top of him. "Tell me," Dick demanded one more time. For an answer, Bruce smirked at him and shifted them, so Dick was the one lying on the bed._

_"You called me a slut," Bruce clarified and Dick would have denied it but Bruce was right. He remembered his words: I've seen Brucie being **this friendly, and more,** in parties **with just anyone**. Dick reprimanded himself internally, 'very classy, Dick, next time call him a whore, so he never talks to you again.'_

_"I'm so sorry—" Dick apologised, thought Bruce was anything but mad. Bruce kissed him again, his tongue traced his lips and suffocated Dick's mouth in the most pleasurable way, fiery and passionate. Dick clung to Bruce's back, pushing him closer to him and asking for more, and he ground his hips against Bruce and fuck, they were both hard, Dick was screwed.  
_

_"B," Dick pleaded. He wanted to believe he was pleading for Bruce to stop and listen to him, but Bruce took both of his cocks with his hand and jerked them off. Dick moaned a bunch of "B," and "Bruce," on the verge of his orgasm, this time pleading for Bruce to not stop. Dick came with his body shaking and Bruce followed him with a deep grunt._

_Resulting, the time they had left to be together, Dick didn't have the mood to do anything but cuddle with Bruce._

_It was when Dick was on the doorstep, —about to leave— the moment he gathered his thoughts together and the strength to ask: "So, what am I to you again?"_

_"You are my partner," Bruce replied without hesitation.  
_

_Dick looked at him with thoughtful eyes and added: “Partner is a broad concept."_

_The sole explanation Dick believed for what happened next was that he might have shown on his face the turmoil he was dealing with inside. Bruce wasn't like this, he didn't talk about "you and me," and bonds, and he didn't use the words "irreplaceable" or "cherish."  
_

_"Dick, we share a rare bond, non-definable. What you and I had gone through together, what we are, what we have... it’s unique, irreplaceable. I know I don't say it often but I cherish you like nothing else... Is that enough for you?"_

_Altogether, his brain forgot how to function properly. It was Dick's time to say less. Dick mumbled a soft "yes," and hugged Bruce. He hoped his embrace translated the emotions that Dick couldn't put into words._

**~o~o~o~  
**

"Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me everything?" Donna inquired with curiosity.

"Because I'm omitting the steamy content to not traumatise you, Donna." She rolled her eyes and Dick chuckled, it was funnier when he could annoy her.

 _"_ I admit that his last words were nice, though there’s room for improvement.”

“C’mon, Donna, give the Bat a break, he was trying his best.” 

”He could try harder.” Donna cut out dryly.  
  
“He does his best,” Dick reiterated. 

“Does he, though?” Donna wasn’t adept to change her mind, Dick smiled at her stubborn attitude. Indeed, they were soul siblings.

”He makes me happy,” Dick took the simple road of honest feelings. Complicated words weren’t working.

Donna stared at him with unapologetic judgment, she crossed her legs and said: "Try one more time, Dick, give me a story in which Bruce is nice, caring even, o-pen-ly. No mind games.”

"If you want me to I could learn to fly too, I heard Superman is a patient teacher," Dick jested to make Donna laugh and relax. It worked, her stiff shoulders dropped to a lighter stance. Then he continued, "I'm kidding, alright... let's see if you like this one."

**~o~o~o~**

_Sixteen hours and counting. It was the number of hours Bruce had been peacefully sleeping. Dick thought Bruce had been lying when he said he was tired. Typical Bruce, he would say he was terrible weary and then he would recover with a short nap. Dick found it unfair, his body needed at least two days to come back to life after a mission overseas._

_It seemed that age had caught on with Bruce, or it could that —_ _Dick smiled brightly_ _—_ _that Bruce felt comfortable, perhaps safe, sleeping next to Dick. To be honest, Dick hadn’t expected for their day to go like this. After Bruce had asked him to stay post-mission, he had planned a day as a tourist in Thessaloniki. Blamed it on his days in the Circus, they travelled a lot around the world. On the brightest days of Haly’s Circus, they could be on tour most of the year, barely having time for vacations. Thought Dick never really stopped travelling. Dick’s parents were born as travellers souls, they couldn’t stop even when they have two months of vacations. Dick wished he had taken more pictures, he wished he had enjoyed more their time together. When his parents died, he didn’t get to travel that much, unless Batman needed him._

 _From the other side of the bed, Dick saw Bruce shifting slightly and blinking his eyes to adapt to the dim light of the room. Bruce didn't address him, so Dick spoke first._ _“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen your sleep this much without being knocked out, hurt or post-surgery."  
_

_Bruce closed his eyes again. Dick could tell he wasn't sleeping so he added: "you are gonna sleep on me again, aren’t you?"_

_"Am I offending you?" Bruce asked.  
_

_"Kind of, none of my exes went to sleep when they got me half-naked in their bed, at least, not before sex," Dick chuckled and waited for Bruce to bite the trap.  
_

_"Incorrigible," Bruce murmured and fell asleep again. Dick laughed at himself,  
_

_They didn’t do much and as odd as it was, Dick found it comforting. Any other time with somebody else, Dick would have left the room to find something to do, anything to keep his mind busy, anything to tame his itchy feet. He didn’t deal well with stillness, how could he? He had lived to run, to jump, and to be on his way to a crime scene and save someone, to do something. He had been wired to be in the right place and at the right time to help. Even when there was nothing inherently right with the wrong places and bad timing he had to have to be a hero for others. The mission could be complicated, the mission could be a mess but his life motto was simple: be useful and save people. And apparently, there was nothing useful in stillness._

_Dick had a bad habit of running away from his lovers unless the lover was Bruce. Dick didn’t want to leave, he didn’t feel he had to be in another place. He was fine, he was home._ _The irony of life, with any other lover, the mere thought of feeling at home wouldn’t have been scary. Sadly, with Bruce, nothing was ever that uncomplicated._

_Twenty hours and counting, the Sun had set. Bruce woke up disoriented and searched for him with his eyes. Outside in the balcony, Dick stared at him amused, regretting in his mind that he didn’t record him. It would have made good material for blackmail. Dick would show it to him and he would say something along the lines of “See? This is how you miss me and need me, you can’t even handle not having me by your side when you wake up.” Thinking thoroughly, it was a good idea not to have that type of material. Dick didn’t want to face the consequences. Not even the Joker had dared to record Batman in such a vulnerable state._

_After drinking a cup of coffee, Bruce joined him._ _“I thought you would be out?” Dick raised his eyebrows in confusion, Bruce took the hint and elaborated, “You said you have made plans for today and I slept through them.”_

_Dick stared at the floor to avoid Bruce’s eyes, who were looking at him with a certain type of sympathy Dick disliked, “Oh yeah, sure, I said that, yeah, sorry, there weren’t plans, not really. I didn’t lose any sleep making them,” the rest of what he wanted to say was trapped in his throat. Dick looked at his right, where the lights of the city were brighter and he could see a glimpse of the beach. “I came here with my parents, we were travelling with the circus, I guess I remember a few places…” Dick stopped there. Whatever else he wanted to say, he wouldn’t be able to speak without shedding a few tears and he wasn’t on the mood of crying. He didn’t want to corrupt his childhood memories with sorrow, he refused to remember the time he spent with his parents with his current melancholic state of mind._

_Next thing he knew, Bruce was holding him as a protective wall and Dick clung onto him. He hid his face on Bruce’s chest to smother his crying. Of the few times Dick had been glad that Bruce wasn’t good comforting others with words, this surely was one of those. At that moment, Dick preferred to find solace in silence, knowing that Bruce was there for him._

_Later that night, they shared a hot bath. Mostly, it was an excuse made by Bruce to make it up to him._

_"We don’t have to leave in the morning, we can stay one more day and you can give me a tour," Bruce said and_ _Dick’s heart skipped a beat. As much as Dick wanted to say "yes" and take advantage of the offer, he didn't want to be responsible for straining Bruce's already tight schedule.  
_

_"B, you don’t have to," Dick joined their foreheads and gave Bruce his puppy eyes, "you already had too much on your hands, I don't want to add to your stress."  
_

_Bruce embraced him with his strong arms and kissed his nose, "no, you take away the stress," Dick blushed and tried to hide his face in Bruce’s shoulder crock, only that Bruce was faster and cupped his head with one hand. “Honey,” Bruce kissed him and Dick was happy to kiss him back with fervour._

_Bruce rubbed his back in slow motion, gently tracing his moles and scars. The rest of the bath was a bliss. Bruce massaged his muscles and eased his knots, Dick's touch-starved-self thought he was in paradise._

**~o~o~o~**

"I see... For now, I can spare his life," she menaced in a way that told Dick that she wasn't kidding.

"You do remember this conversation is being recorded on the Tower’s system, which is connected to the Batcave’s system, right?" Dick reminded her, in case she had forgotten.

"Aham, so? Let him come at me," Donna said with a blithe tone that made Dick's curiosity risen.

"That’s my girl, suicidal but with good intentions," Dick smiled fondly at her. 

"I can be very persuasive," she unleashed the Lasso of Persuasion and tied Dick’s arms with it. "Talking about bratty Bats... I’m ordering you to stay in tonight, go back to your room, take a shower, do your scary non-human stretching routine and go to sleep. Don't you dare to talk back, Dick Grayson! I saw the hits you took last night, you need to rest."

He didn’t see that coming. "Donna," Dick warned her. He could fight the Lasso’s will for a few minutes but there was no way he was going to withstand all night without yielding to her orders.

"Don’t make repeat myself, _dick_ ," Donna threatened him.

"You got to be fucking kidding me, you can't do this to me, I'm the leader of this team, what are you gonna tell them?" Dick protested as he walked vanquished to his room.

Dick did as he was told, he didn't have an option anyway. He wasn't even that injured, he could deal with the pain and he could still move just fine and jump high. Nonetheless, Donna's orders had been too specific, he couldn't escape them. He had outwitted her before and she had learnt. Dick was equally proud and angry. Though his anger didn't last, when he got to his room Dick found a pearl marble coloured paper waiting for him on his bed. In a heartbeat, he recognised the distinctive signature.

_Meet you at the penthouse on Saturday, at 3 AM,_

_Don’t be late,_

_B_

* * *

**Gotham, May 28, 17:15 EST  
**

The first time Jason and Barbara met, things didn't work at all. They both acted childish around each other; Barbara was angry at him for replacing Dick as Robin, and Jason was mad at her for being mad at him. In spite of all the odds against a possible friendship, the feud between them didn't last. After a few missions together, they fell on a comfortable friendship, they resembled an older sister and younger brother relationship.

Sometimes, when they both had the luxury of free time, and no missions, no injuries, they met at her house to review each other's cases. Unlike other occasions, Jason couldn't focus on the case he was working on. He was far more concerned about Dick's arrival and how that would change his interactions with Bruce. For his luck, Barbara wasn't easy to fool. Likely, she already knew why he had summoned her that day.

“So what’s your plan?” Barbara asked as without losing sight of her computer screen.

“Plan? I don’t have a plan, I don't need a plan, Barbara” Jason wasn’t sure they were talking about the same thing but if they were, he certainly needed to listen to her advise. After all, Batgirl was an expert on dealing with Batman and the ex-Robin in the same room. While Jason hadn’t had the opportunity to interact with both of them at the same time and place.

“Not really, I mean,” she picked two fries and sank them in her milkshake. “Together, when they are together, they can be a lot to handle. If you want my opinion, I think it’s up to Dick. They're both stubborn but usually, it is Dick who tries to make amends. If Dick is fine, it will all be fine but if he’s not, he will try to push Bruce and if he pushes Bruce to the edge… you better leave them alone to be the annoying, old married couple that they are.”

“That’s how you describe them? Annoying, old married couple?” Jason bit his hamburger.

“That’s what they are, Jase," Barbara confirmed. She took a moment to take a sip of her milkshake and then added, “You never know with them, Jay, sometimes it’s like they are one second way to kill each other, then it looks like they are about to kiss. They had this weird, possessive, homoerotic chemistry going on between them, I can’t even find a word to describe them... Just don’t get between them, let them resolve whichever state their relationship is in.”

“Yeah, about that... What kind of fucked up relationship they have? Before meeting Bruce, I supposed Batman and Robin were father and son, then I met Bruce and I thought they were more like boss and employee. And then I met Dick, and seriously, what the fuck? I get it, dude, they were fighting, bad blood and all of that, but Dick acted as if they were divorced and I was the new boyfriend.”

"Language, Jason Peter Todd Wayne," Barbara took away his french fries as punishment. 

"Hey, Barbara! The fuck is wrong with you—" Jason took his food back. 

"Poor Alfred, one of these days, you will give his British heart an attack... Regarding Dick's behaviour, well, the man surely has the power to honour his name." Barbara caught him off guard, Jason nearly choked as he swallowed his food. "I understand that Bruce and Dick had an unusual relationship. For all I know, Bruce was the husband, Selina, Silver, Talia, all of them were the wives and Dick was the mistress. Only that in this story, Bruce left his wives for his mistress."

"You are out of your fucking mind, Barbara. Like I can see Dick having a crush on Bruce, eighty per cent of Gotham does, he's not that special. But Bruce can have anyone he wants," Jason replied.

“Take it with a grain of salt, Jay, I know what I’m talking about. I’m a woman, I have a sixth sense,” Barbara chuckled, “So how about the names you had me looking into? What was that about?” She successfully changed the topic without rising suspicion on Jason. Unlike him, Barbara knew Jason wasn’t ready for the truth.

**~o~o~o~**

_Sometimes night patrols went terribly wrong, Barbara remembered that night had been particularly bad. Three bank robberies at the same time, opposite sides of Gotham. Batman, Robin and Batgirl separated to ensure the robberies were neutralised._

_From what Barbara recalled, it was bloodier than usual. Those criminals had been professional and they had hired Victor Zsasz to help them. If you had Zsasz on your side, you had high bets on you to succeed. The only ones who could stop them were the Bats and they did. _

_What they weren’t counting on was on a bomb strategically well hidden on the Central Gotham Bank, in which Batman was fighting some thugs. It had been for the best that it was Batman who had to deal with the bomb since he was the one most capacitated to deal with that type of stuff. That’s what Barbara thought._

_Later Dick told her that he heard Bruce through the comms telling Alfred that there was a bomb. Dick hurried up and assisted him as a backup to deal with the thugs, as Bruce got rid of the bomb._

_Dick didn’t tell her, Dick didn’t consider on calling her and requested her help. No, the Wonder Boy jumped and rushed to save his man. Besides Barbara desire to punch Dick in the face, she didn’t say anything because she knew it wouldn’t change a thing. Batman and Robin, they were a duo, they were a team on their own. Robin would take a bullet for Batman and maybe, he would take a bullet for her too, maybe._

_It hurt to be excluded, though it wasn’t a real exclusion. Batgirl worked with them, she was a member of the Bat-Team. Nonetheless, outside the roles of Batman and Robin, Bruce and Dick were something else. Barbara didn’t have proof but she didn’t have doubts either. The lack of proof didn’t last after the bomb issue. Batman didn’t evacuate fast enough from the bank, so he had to stay in a private med centre facility for a week to heal his injuries. It was all the time Barbara needed to confirm what it was on the surface, the chemistry between Bruce and Dick that it was hard to ignore._

_Barbara paid Bruce’s daily visits to keep him updated about other cases they were working on, plus she wanted to see how the man was doing. She didn’t tell him the last part, Bruce didn’t take with kindness when others worried about him. Unless that someone was Dick, or that’s the conclusion Barbara came with when she saw Dick sitting next to Bruce’s bed, talking to him and holding his hand._

_She stayed in a hidden spot to see Dick capturing Bruce's lips as Bruce tried to say something like, “Dick, somebody could come,” and Dick ignored him and kept kissing him. Barbara wasn’t surprised, she had seen it coming. What it surprised her was the hot picture that they both made kissing, it was better than the erotic movies she and her friends used to watch on Friday’s nights._

_“Dick, stop, this can’t happen,” Bruce emphasised, though the grasp he had on Dick’s upper arm didn’t waver. If Barbara were Dick, she would have told Bruce to make up his mind._

_“I don’t get it, I’m a legal, consenting adult, I want this and you want it too,” Barbara agreed, he made a good point. Thought she would add that he was a “legal, consenting adult who didn’t know how to take a no for an answer.”_

_“I was your legal guardian, I had — Still have too much power over you, Dick,” Barbara’s stomach clenched, Bruce was right._

_“So do you over the models you date or your assistants… Don’t lie to me, I know you had fucked at least your last five assistants, one of them was doing an internship and she was my age, where was your morality back then?" Barbara hid her mouth with her hands, she had to suppress her laugh or they would notice her presence.  
_

_“It’s not the same,” Bruce said with a weak voice, it was unlike Bruce to speak like that.  
_

_“How is it not the same?” Barbara repressed a snort, wasn’t it obvious how it wasn’t the same? It wasn't possible for Bruce to treat Dick with the same careless attitude he had for his one-night-stands. Dick and Bruce had shared too much history and battles.  
_

_“I care for you… deeply,” Bruce whispered. For a regular civilian, it was an inaudible sound, for Barbara it was more than clear and she agreed with Bruce's sentiment.  
_

_“Does that mean we cannot kiss?” Dick insisted, seriously, Barbara was going to give that boy a class of consent in adult relationships._

_Bruce took Dick’s face with both of his hands and kissed him. This time it was Bruce who initiated the kiss, tongue and teeth. It was a hungry kiss, he meant it. Barbara was happy for Dick, though a little disappointed because she had had a crush on Batman —and maybe Bruce Wayne— growing up too._

_She looked at them one more time, Bruce’s hand were now around Dick’s waist and Dick was sitting on the bed. Barbara be damned, they were both hot, and when they were together they were even hotter. She would have stayed to watch the show, it was promising with the passion of their kisses, the wandering hands, wet sounds and moans going on, but she couldn’t do that to them. If they have been any other hot couple…_

_**~o~o~o~** _

"I have an idea. When Dick gets here, tell him to help you this case. He will, he likes helping strays. And if you tell him why this case is so important for you—"

"I can’t do that, Barbara!" Jason sneered to her advise.

“Why not? This gang is snatching street kids because they know that nobody cares for them, nobody misses them, but we do, Jason. Bruce is busy with the League, I’m busy with my online summer college classes, but Dick? Jay, he can help you and he will be happy to help. I know you had a rough start with him but so you did with me. Trust me, he’s not half of the asshole you met."

“I’ll see,” Jason mumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.  
> Thank you for reading,  
> 💙


	6. This Is The Fire That You Gave Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Court of Owls, the Titans, Superman, Batman, they all want a piece of Dick Grayson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] An unfinished version of the chapter got posted by mistake, the author was editing the chapter while simultaneously eating nuggets, watching a Spiderman movie and she hadn't had her coffee yet. I'm so sorry if you read that messy draft, I'm not even sure if there still was a section written in Spanish. It seems my ability to multitask has left the chat. 
> 
> [x] I was unsure about adding the Court of Owls Arc because it'll take around 20 or more chapters to finish this fic, and I thought maybe it was too much? (It's all Gotham TV's fault) but I'm going to do it. 
> 
> [x]Yes, there is a reference related to The Great Gatsby. In case you haven't read the book, Daisy is portrayed as beautiful, charming, kind of dumb, shallow, and sardonic. She's more interested in her status and money than anything else.
> 
> [x] Persephone is the Greek Goddess of Spring, Queen of the Underworld. Bats are one of the animals associated with her.
> 
> [x] Words used in the Young Justice Cartoon.  
>  **Aster:** A situation with a good circumstance, a good or positive experience. Opposite of Disaster.  
>  **Heveled:** Ordered, kept in a tidy way. Opposite of Disheveled.  
>  **Renial:** To be in denial again. Refuse again to admit the truth or reality of something. Comes from the word Denial.

**Almost three months ago. Somewhere in Gotham on an unknown day of March.  
**

Beware the Court of Owls that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth. They watch you in your bed. Speak not a whispered word of them, or they'll send the Talon for your head.

“Is it time?” The youngest and newest member of the Court asked.

“No, not yet,” a blond woman —Kathryn Monroe— replied.

“Nonsense. We are losing time, if we haunt Talon in San Francisco, the _creature of the night_ would be too late to help him. It’s a priceless opportunity to get what is rightfully ours back,” a tall man with greyish hair —Joseph Powers— added. 

“No, it’s a drastic decision. He’s too hopeful, too bright, we need to break him first, and in the process, make him nothing for Mr Wayne to save,” Kathryn explained. 

“I beg to differ. Mr Wayne seems rather emotional invested in the boy, the fool believes Talon is _his,_ ” a brunette woman sitting next to Kathryn —Mariah Moody— spoke.

“Mr Wayne is fond of Richard Grayson, the first Robin, the one who became Nightwing; he found an obedient servant in him and other _benefits_ along the way. However, Mr Wayne won’t feel the same caring sentiment for him when he realises who Richard is at his core: nothing more than Talon, the mercenary of the Court.” As the representative of the Court, it was Kathryn’s duty to keep all the members in line. The Court of Owls might never make a mistake that exposed them to Gotham’s prying eyes.

“Pardon my distrust, Kathryn, but I sense this is a risk we must not take. The _creature of the night_ had proved that he doesn’t value true detachment from his soldiers. He had protected the members of the Justice League and the Titans, and he seems rather overprotective of his second Robin, I cannot see how this won’t include the original one,” Powers insisted.

“I understand where you are coming from. Nonetheless, the plan shall proceed as we initially agreed. Mark my words: When we are done with Grayson, Mr Wayne won’t recognise him and Talon will rise.” With those last words, Kathryn adjourned the meeting.

* * *

**Gotham, May 28, 20:20 EST**

Bruce did the fair thing. He told Alfred with anticipation that Dick would be coming for the summer, so the old butler could have time to make all the needed arrangements. However, it seemed that Alfred wasn’t that busy with preparations, as he had enough time to torture Bruce with passive-aggressive comments that enticed a confession Bruce was not ready to give to his father figure.

**~o~o~o~**

_It all began with a question disguised in innocent intention. “Master Bruce, will it be necessary to prepare Master Dick’s old bedroom?”_

_Bruce raised an eyebrow, confused by the interrogative. Bruce had taken great measures to hide the nature of his relationship with Dick. As far as Bruce was concerned, in the eyes of others, there was no reason for Dick to stay somewhere else than his old bedroom. Then again, Alfred was an expert at knowing things that no one else knew. Did Alfred suspect something? Or did Alfred know already what was going on? Only time would tell, for Bruce refused to give into Alfred’s curiosity._   
  
_“Well, he needs a place to sleep, Alfred,” Bruce replied faking his best nonchalant voice. The secret ached in his chest, Dick deserved better but the time to announce what they had wasn’t right yet. And if Bruce was feeling half-sincere with himself, such exact moment didn’t exist at all in their timeline._

_“I see, aren’t you smart, Master Bruce?” the old butler replied with sarcasm and left Bruce to think about the mess he had created.  
_

_By then, the mess was done and unfixable, so were his thoughts: 'You couldn't keep your hands to yourself, could you? Like a common beast with a lack of self-control, I had to be greedy and kissed him, why did I kiss him? (Because I can't be in the same room with him and not kiss him) His mere existence is a Sin, how does someone have a right to look as gorgeous as he does? He should have been dumb, shallow, a liar like Daisy Buchanan; young, charming, beautiful individuals like him don't need to be brave, funny, smart, they don't need integrity. He wasn't supposed to be the balance I do need in my life._ _Had the Joker made a deal with the Devil? Because he is a sure ticket for me to descend into the unknown realms of Hell... God, but the dimples of his smile, and the way he talks with his sweet voice, and his laugh, and his eyes, and his presence, all about him is...'  
_

_“Perfect.”_

_**~o~o~o~** _

The consecutive weeks that passed, Bruce ignored Alfred’s remarks or he simply played the fool. _Brucie_ Wayne didn’t have to be smart after all, as an excuse he told Alfred that he was practising his dumb role to keep it fresh for social events. Bruce paid the consequences, Alfred made sure to serve him his least-liked dishes for weeks. It came to the point in which Bruce had to grant Alfred free days, so he could order food from Gotham's fanciest restaurants. He was a Wayne, he had a reputation to maintain for the public eye. He would have lasted longer avoiding Alfred but Jason wasn't pleased by takeaway food.

Bruce could say that he wasn’t scared of the conversation itself. Alfred wasn’t a judge, he wasn’t a lawyer, he was his second father in life —a very forgiven one— Alfred would understand. In fact, there was no evidence that forecasted a bad reaction coming from the butler. Taking advantage of a full episode of sincerity, Bruce had the guts to admit that the issue wasn’t Alfred's opinion, neither Jason's. The root of the problem was the level of proximity (close, oh so close, they were a symbiosis of fluids, feelings and co-dependency) between Bruce and Dick.

The irony of his life. Bruce hardly let anyone come _close_ to him, he didn’t like the invasion of his space, instead, he was an advocate for distance. Unless it was Dick, only then Bruce had demanded a settled playground with rules, a schedule and a strategic plan. Those factors were constant in the functionality of their relationship. Those things had been the solid foundation of Batman and Robin, and of Bruce and Dick; and when they finally made peace with their mutual romantic feelings, they changed the rules for loyalty, they changed the schedule for dates and they changed the strategic plan for a future together. It was nothing like the beginning, even so, it was even better than what the odds had promised for a pair of lost souls.

As for Bruce, he would pay the price to share a life with Dick, as long as the price was living afterlife in hell. Yet when it came to the business with the living, he wasn’t in the same level of bravery. For once, the problem wasn’t his life as Batman. He and Dick shared the sentiment of fighting crime behind masks as a reasonable solution for crime and injustice. Moreover, his co-workers ( _friends_ , said a voice inside his head that resembled Dick) didn’t have such a clean record to judge him. A lot of them had killed, —in the name of justice or whatever allegedly valid excuse they brainwashed themselves with— but killing was killing. If you took another person’s life, who are you to judge how others live their lives?

Perhaps, Bruce was being too hard on them. They wouldn’t judge him because —even when it took all his pride to admit it— those freaks were his friends. They cared for him, they wanted him to be happy and moved on with his personal life. In the past, they had tried to help him to settle down. When Bruce was still with Selina, they worried for him when the pair had fights. Also, they went soft with Catwoman because they acknowledged Bruce loved her. Oliver and Dinah kept it to themselves —Bruce bet it was Dinah’s influence— but Bruce was aware of the many times they allowed Catwoman escaped after a robbery. They even covered her tracks for the police to be oblivious of her egregious acts.

In addition, there was Clark, who had already been a witness of what Bruce and his former sidekick were up to when they thought nobody was watching. The alien had the bad habit of peeping at people and overhearing conversations, and the bastard still had the audacity to call out Bruce on his creepy tendencies.

**~o~o~o~**

_It was a lazy Sunday morning, they were kissing in the bed when Bruce's smartphone vibrated._ _Dick being a natural jester couldn't help himself but joke about it. “Sweet, you brought a toy.” Dick grinned at him with a naughty smile that could have effortlessly disarmed a less controlled man than Bruce._

_“It’s my phone,” Bruce said as he picked it up from his trousers’ pocket, meanwhile Dick whispered something like “mood killer.”_

_The message read: Bruce, I’m outside and I think we need to talk… please, don’t bring, Dick? >:/  
_

_Bruce froze for a second, only for a second, the Dark Knight wasn’t intimidated by a stupid text message. He didn’t have to ask Clark why he wanted to have a word with him, the reason was evident, and the reason was shamelessly kissing and licking his low abdomen, going down and down. Bruce didn’t want to go, the intentions of his lover were clear. Dick was going to blow his mind in pleasure by sucking his cock, meanwhile, Clark was going to drown him in bitter shame._

_“I have to answer this… outside,” Dick met his eyes, he didn’t ask for an explanation, he just nodded and let Bruce go. Usually, Bruce didn’t apologise for interrupting sex but he wanted it to say something because this precious man was his lover, not a casual hook-up._

_“It’s…” Bruce tried to make up an excuse.  
_

_“Save it, I get it... you know I do,” Dick waved his hand to the door’s direction to encourage Bruce to leave without guilt._

_Clark, the bastard alien, made a fuss over nothing. There were some questions related to his sexuality as if Bruce had to notify the Justice League that he was bisexual. Then Clark asked about safety and consent, did Clark thought Bruce live under a rock?_ _It was bearable until it was not. The blue elephant of the room wasn’t asking to be addressed, however, Clark didn’t seem to care about what the blue elephant and Bruce wanted. Bruce was in a blind alley, Clark was going to ask, regardless if he wanted to cooperate or not._

_“Does he… is he… did he agree on this arrangement?” Clark asked with caution as if Bruce were a feral animal.  
_

_“Did he appear reluctant to you?” To be honest, Bruce was the one who had everything to lose in this conversation. For his position in the Justice League, he had to reply to these questions. Nevertheless, he didn’t have it in himself. If Clark was going to assume the worse, then he could colour Bruce red._

_“A lot of things are not what they seem,” Clark remarked, he imitated the cryptic tone Bruce used as Batman during the Justice League's meetings.  
_

_“Outrageous. You can bury me in a dumpster, abandon me nameless and forgotten, if I ever rape someone, or if I ever touch a child, or whatever nonsense you are implying, Clark,” Bruce didn't pacify the rudeness in his voice._

_In front of him, the defensive stance of the Kryptonian relaxed. “I’m sorry, Bruce, you are my friend but so he is, please understand, I had no idea that both of you—”_

_“Are you blind?” Bruce cut Clark off in disbelief. It wasn’t as if Dick were subtle and even when Bruce tried, he had had some slips through the years. The clues had laid there in the outside, one only had to look closer._

_“You can ask him, face to face, go ahead,” Bruce passed him the key to the apartment. “No?” Clark was an open book of human emotions that his Kryptonian nature couldn’t handle well. “Of course, you won’t. Why are you going to ask him? "Hey Dick, I'm curious, do you have daddy issues? was it the Batman's suit”_

_Clark huffed, he was easy to poke, or maybe Bruce had too much experience making hot-tempered dark-haired men angry with a few words._

_“You win, Bruce.” Clark gave him back the key, and with shyness in his voice, he added: “Just… make sure he’s fine, take care of him, I don’t want to have to crush your bones.”_

_“I was serious, come in,” Bruce invited him opening the door._

_“You don’t have to, you two were…”_

_“Having safe, consensual sex? Yes, we were,” Bruce emphasised the past tense, “but you wanted to play the White Knight, so why don’t you come in and say “hi” to the princess?”_

_Needless to say, Dick was thrilled to catch up with one of his favourite aliens, one of them, since Miss Anders had made a great impression on Dick._

_**~o~o~o~** _

Over the years, the dreadful things came with his life as Batman. Unlike before, the biggest challenge was going to come with his civilian life.

Hope for the worst, fear for the best. Words to live for when you had crossed the friendly lines with your former ward and student. And no, Bruce wasn’t dismissing Dick as less than family. They hadn’t been father and son, and for completely obvious reasons, Bruce couldn’t see Dick as a son. However, he never tried to fill the role, not even when Dick was ten, because if Bruce was sure something, it was that John Grayson had done an incredible job and Dick didn’t need a replacement. So no, Dick wasn’t his son and he wasn’t his younger brother either, but Bruce never doubted he was part of his found family. 

It was hard enough to explain it to himself in his head, what they felt for each other was hard to grasp. What would the press think? What would his business partners think? What would his employees think? For sure, he wasn’t going to win Person of the Year.

The backlash that Bruce was going to receive would go down in history as a disgrace to the Wayne family. Yet, the whole disastrous public mess was more appealing than what Dick would go through. Bruce couldn’t see the future but his experience had taught him something. There would be an article calling Dick a victim of Stockholm Syndrome, the poor circus boy sleeping with his abuser into adulthood. Though it hadn’t happened yet, Bruce wanted to break the hands of the one who would sign as an author.   
  
Even more problematic was the fact that there wasn’t were the issues ended. Bruce and Dick have walked into a romantic relationship with free will. They were adults who knew the consequences. Nonetheless, there were others in between who would be collateral damage, and one of them was Jason, the same kid Bruce had been trying to legally adopt for the past few months. 

Legal papers required time to be effective. As soon as possible, Bruce needed those to make Jason his son under the law. Once the press published that Bruce and Dick were together, it was game over. No judge would vote on his favour unless Bruce bribed them, which he wasn’t going to ever do. To be honest, Bruce couldn’t even be mad for a judge to doubt him. 

He could hear the lawyer in opposition saying: “Mr Wayne here wants us to believe that during eight years, with Dick Grayson living just a few steps away from his bedroom, he didn’t force himself on the poor boy. No, he wants us to believe that he waited for the man to be on his twenties to have sexual intercourse. Apparently, Mr Wayne thinks we are all were born yesterday.”

Hadn't Oscar Wilde condemned himself with his own words during a trial? Bruce would gladly join his team because Dick Grayson was unforgettable. He was both the storm and the rainbow that came afterwards the pouring (and healing) rain. He was Life and Death amalgamated in one body, one Soul. He was both the Sin and the Salvation. He wasn’t human, not in the same way Bruce was, he was the proof that Persephone had left a descendant on Earth. And Bruce had been the idiot who decided that a semi God would look wonderful (he did) in his family picture.

* * *

**Metropolis, May 29, 14:22 EST**

This wasn't supposed to be this way. Bruce had planned Dick's arrival carefully. Bruce prided himself in being organised, naturally, he loathed when others disrupted his plans.

This was supposed to be easy, it was a simple execution of a romantic date. Evidently, as they had been together for a while, Bruce had taken Dick with him to many places. However, most of the travelling they did together was related to a mission.

While he wasn't ready to make it public, he could still take Dick to a private place and make it good for him. None of that matter anyway, his plans were stalled by an urgent message coming from the Watchtower. It had been Clark, with the assistance of Barry's disastrous performance. They were the troublemaker duo that managed to mess with his (excessively) well-crafted plans.

Reluctantly, Bruce called Dick to let him know the bad news.

(It was a secret that it wouldn’t leave his mind. He wished Dick wouldn’t reply, so he would have a reasonable excuse to let Metropolis burn as he drank a glass of wine with Dick in Gotham)

Two times he called until Dick picked up. Bruce was the first one to talk: “Hey.”

“Hey there, you... Please, tell me I'm paranoid and that you are not calling to cancel our... date, I mean, appointment?” Dick’s voice sounded tired, had he slept enough?

“Date. And yes, I can't make it tonight,” Bruce couldn't repress a heavy sigh, “but I need you to do something for me.”

Treacherous (actually, the opposite, real) thoughts: _‘Excellent touch, Bruce, ditch him and then ask him for a favour. Classy move, Brucie would be proud.’_

“Sure,” Dick replied with a short, unenthusiastic voice.

This was when a normal human would say “I am sorry,” but those three words did nothing to fix the problem, so they were unnecessary to Bruce's pragmatic brain.

“Call Barbara, she and Jason will be patrolling together tonight, but I think they will need your help. Make sure they don't do anything stupid, and by that, I'm talking about Jason's impulsivity, and Barbara thinking that Jason would be able to somehow read her mind.”

“Noted, boss, I’ll do it,” Dick tried too hard to show interest. Bruce could picture him forcing a weak smile on his face, trying to prove that he wasn’t in a bad mood. It was if the mere idea of not being perceived as an optimistic, ray of sunshine, physically harmed Dick’s psyche. 

Meanwhile, Bruce was on his way to Metropolis, the rain pouring on the car made a nicer sound to listen than Dick's obvious annoyance. Dick was the talker, he was kind of impossible to shut up when they were alone, Dick even talked in his sleep. Bruce was fine with it, Dick could do all the talking for both of them, and if he talked while he was sleeping, and sometimes Bruce got to hear Dick calling for him, saying his name, well, that was a silver lining Bruce was glad to live with it.

Bruce looked at the clock, ten minutes gone by, and Dick hadn't said anything else to fill the silence. “You are mad,” Bruce stated the obvious, it was a way to keep the conversation going, clarifying that he was aware how the other felt, it added a sense of empathy.

“Bruce, you don't have to use the _conversations lessons_ Diana and Dinah taught you, I know you, that's the whole point, you can be your own person with me, remember?” Finally, Dick was talking and translating everything. “In fact, I think you think I’m overreacting. And yes, I’m kind of mad but I get it, the mission comes first. I won’t die of disappointment.” 

“Is something else troubling you?” Bruce was a flawed man, he was rude and bossy, yet Dick didn’t take it personally. So yes, there had to be something else causing trouble to his pretty bird for him to be this bitter.

“I haven't slept enough hours to function like a proper human and I'm tired of everyone in the Tower... Maybe my body hurts too much to think straight, maybe I'm just a moody and need trainwreck, who knows? It really doesn't matter... anything else I can help you with?”

The comforting words Bruce wanted to speak didn’t find a way to his brain. Hence, he was left with the practical side of the motive for this conversation. “Make sure Jason goes to sleep after patrol, sometimes he stays awake watching TV.” 

“Sure, B,” his voice was lighter. Someone inside his head (it was Dick’s) told him that Dick found endearing that Bruce cared (spoiled) Jason. 

“Good, I’ll see you later,” Bruce hang off.

Dick, who was both persistent and a teaser, sent him a text message that read: “I love you too, honey, of course, you don’t have to thank me for taking care of your teenager kid... what? you are going to get me a new car? Oh, love of my 🦇life.”

* * *

**Somewhere in Metropolis, May 29, after six hours of damage control.**

To say Bruce was tired, it was nothing. He was beyond exhausted. He had to rescue Superman and the Flash from a Lex's facility that had a high-security system: kryptonite bullets and special sensors to block metahuman abilities. It was a clever trap. Luthor led Superman and the Flash to believe that the facility was harmless by letting them inside and out twice, and then in the third time, he caught them like a pair of rodents.

When they back in the safety of Clark's house, Batman gave them both a speech on why underestimating Luthor's capacity to wait before striking was a death wish. They clearly didn't want to hear him because _they knew what they were doing,_ but Batman didn't ask for opinions. He said what he had to say, even if his honesty made his fellow heroes angry. 

Regardless of how severe he had been, Clark still invited him to stay for a cup of coffee. Despite the fact that Clark was the one who came from another planet, he seemed to have mastered the art of being human better than Bruce.

“Bruce, remember the alien diamonds I asked you to check up on?” Clark asked.

“I do, and as I recalled I explained to you the report. There wasn’t any sign for them to be from outer space. It was a dead lead,” Bruce said.

“I know you told me so but I kept doing some research—”

“I’m not in the mood to entertain your gut feelings, Clark. The information was clear, Selina did not have a reason to lie,” Bruce explained.

“But I found something,” Clark said.

“You did?” Bruce replied with scepticism.

“I found a lead that corroborates what Selina said but there was something else. As she said, whoever left those diamonds in the crime scene, it was someone who had the means to be in touch with an alien race and some DNA’s traces raise a false alarm. However,” Clark showed him a ring, “this was left behind too. I didn’t know until last night when I… sneaked…”

Bruce snatched from his hands the silver ring. When he saw the logo engraved in the back of the ring, Bruce swore all his blood left his body. This couldn’t be happening right then.

“Focus, Clark. Where did you find this?” Bruce demanded.

“I was looking for leads in the archives of the Metropolis Police Department… illegally but—”

“I don’t mind illegal, _Scout Boy_ , tell me the details,” Bruce was shaking inside, not that Clark would notice, as Bruce kept his imperturbable posture in the outside.

“The detective who found it on the field, apparently, forgot to write about its existence in the report. I don’t want to assume Detective Carlson did it on purpose—”

Bruce’s mind rushed with the many possibilities of why the mentioned detective could have done it. Although Bruce thought police detectives weren’t exactly bright, this was a huge mistake that not even a rookie would make.

“But I do, Clark. This detail is nearly impossible to forget for a professional detective, so Carlson did it on purpose.” Some things were, indeed, exactly what they seemed. “Continue.”

“We’ll see,” Clark sighed and resumed his report. “Even if the detective overlooked to write the ring’s existence, he didn’t deliberately get rid of it. He kept it there, guarded.”

“Which only raised more questions. Did he keep it to use it later? Did someone threaten him? Did the owner of the ring make him do it? Or is he working with the one who owns this ring?”

“Perhaps I could help if you share what this ring means to you,” Clark offered. He didn’t overbear Bruce, he gave him the space Bruce needed to assess if Clark could be a liability once he knew the details.

Bruce waved his hand for Clark to close the distance between them. “It’s the Owl, you see? This symbol represented a secret organisation, founded in Gotham, which used to have full control over the city. At their disposal, they had an unknown number of highly-trained assassins called Talons. I thought they were gone, I dismantled it their operations years ago before I had Robin, the first one.” Bruce clenched his free hand, almost unable to hide the rage running through his veins, “I was wrong, their roots were stronger than I thought.”

This was beyond wrong, this was havoc. How could he be so blind? The Court was back. They were an unpredictable enemy, yet Bruce was sure of something: The Talons were already on the hunt.

“Bruce, if you need help to fight them, anything, count on me,”

Instead of teleporting by a zeta-tube, Bruce had driven to Metropolis for he had been pissed of Clark. But on his way back, he left the car behind and took the nearest zeta-tube he found.

The Court of Owls was back, and so was Dick. They were both in Gotham, alive and on fire, at the same time. Bruce had led Dick into a trap, —though Bruce had no way to know— his heart couldn’t have raced faster, the guilt (and fear) couldn’t have possibly screamed louder.

* * *

**Titans Tower, May 29, 12:15 PST  
**

Bruce had to be kidding, it couldn’t be for real. Dick was ready to go that night and have a good time. He wasn’t an idiot, the instructions were pretty telling. This was a date, it was meant to be a date.

Dick needed it to be, and even if it wasn’t a date, Dick would be okay just to patrol a few hours, come back to the manor and sleep next to Bruce. He was simple to please, all he needed was good company, adrenaline and later, a bed to crash.   
  
When Dick notified to Bruce that he had gotten the invitation, he didn’t mention that he needed the quality time. He thought it was overdramatic to say: “Save me, this is a living Hell. I’m stressed, sleep-deprived, injured, and horny.” The truth was overdramatic but that didn’t make it any less of a truth.

His current state was the result of unintentional (he wanted to believe it was unintended to evade personifying a volcano in explosion) stress caused by the younger members of the Titans and old injuries mixed with new ones. There was no way for Dick to avoid getting hurt, it came with his job. Even if he had stayed as a full-time acrobat, he would have gone through a bunch of injuries and surgeries. It was manageable, his Flying Grayson’s DNA was used to his body coming back from absurd wounds and accidents.

On the other hand, what the teenagers were doing was rather stupid. Since Dick had announced to Rachel and Gar that he was leaving to Gotham for two months, both had lost their minds. They were acting out for whatever excuse they could find, to put it simply, they were begging for attention.

Dick did his best to understand, he truly did. He took them out to skate at the ice rink, they ate fast food, and then watched animated movies. There wasn’t time to spare for them to go to Disneyland, but he tried, okay? However, when the behaviour extended to training and missions, it became overwhelming. Worse than that was the fact that Dick actually didn’t understand their tantrums. Sure, he had been a teenager once, and he had given Batman certain challenges as Robin, but he knew better than to risk his training hours and safety in missions just because he had been fighting with Batman or Bruce or both.

It was not the same situation, it really wasn’t. Dick had to remind himself all the time. He couldn’t be as demanding as Bruce had been with him. By the time, Bruce took him in, Dick had been trained by pro athletes and from him, the circus expected nothing but greatness in his performance. They were nice, they were his family but business was a serious thing and Dick knew they had to draw a line when it came to performing.

Until his last day in the circus, Dick never questioned the rules he had been taught to follow. Living under the same roof as Bruce & Batman wasn’t helpful to question the chain of power either. So no, it could never be the same. Dick shared the fire sentiment with Rachel and Gar, however, Dick had the capacity to recognise when it was time to eat his pride and do his job.

Just his luck, after days and days of dealing with the teenagers of the team, Bruce had to cancel their date. Seriously? Dick wasn’t feeling the _aster_ , he felt doomed. Why was so difficult for him to receive nice things? He wasn’t asking for too much.

Dick sighed and silenced his phone, he didn’t want to hear another upcoming call. He was mad and he hadn’t meant to be rude to Bruce. If only he had slept more than four hours, if he had had a real breakfast and not just two cups of black coffee, only if he hadn’t had to mediate a fight between Gar and Rose that morning... Wishful thinking. 

“Great,” Dick hissed with sarcasm. He felt bad for taking it on Bruce, it wasn’t his lover’s fault what a wreck his life was. Time management wasn’t his strongest trait, neither adulting.

(It was fine, he was fine, fine, fine)

Moreover, Dick understood Bruce had other important things to do, he didn’t pretend to be on the top of his priorities (but he wanted to be). Bruce had other (better) things to focus like Batman, Gotham, the Justice League, Wayne Enterprises, and his family… and there Dick was, falling into the pool of Bruce's family. Somewhere there he was found and it was okay (only that it wasn’t) but Dick didn’t like to think about it. It was merely another episode of his wishful thinking.  
  
He was a severe case of _renial_. Wishful thinking again, daydreaming his life, denying reality… These were the things Dick liked to do for fun, except when he was fighting crime. He was a professional, but why were his legs on so much pain?

* * *

**Gotham, May 29, 21:11 EST**

Dick arrived early without letting anyone know. It was a habit, standing alone in silence from a high rooftop. In those moments, he was one with Gotham in a way he hadn't been born to be. Dick came to Gotham when his eyes had already seen too many dawns in sunny places, he never thought he could need the night as much as Gotham provided to its citizens. Yet somehow, destiny had brought him to this place, ripped him off from his innocence and left him behind in such dark vastness. The stale, empty coldness of his loneliness in orphanhood didn't last, as he was received by the barely warm walls of the Wayne Manor.

Life had strange ways to make people come together. Deep inside, Dick was pretty sure he was fated to meet Bruce. He didn’t need confirmation from anyone, he knew that they were together in other Earths and dimensions. It was a recurring thought that Dick held as a self-indulgent, sacred secret, but here, in Gotham’s dirty rooftops, he could feel infinite and not worry who would listen. Nobody was listening to him anyway, his secret was safe.

Besides, there was something else causing him trouble. There was a little Robin in the back of his mind lashing out at him, the little guy was mad. Why was he enraged? He, they couldn’t let the anger took over.

“Jason,” the little Robin said, and Dick rolled his eyes, “yeah, I know.”

Dick wasn’t naïve. He knew that Bruce had requested to see him first when he arrived to talk about Jason. Sure, Bruce had planned a romantic date, he even sounded disappointed when he had to cancel his plans. Maybe there was a romantic dinner, a gift and some candles in a bedroom waiting for him... yeah, sure, whatever, too much for romance. It’s not like Bruce wasn’t going to give him a _friendly_ threat if something went wrong with Jason.

Dick tried not to take it personally, he put himself in Bruce’s shoes and sympathize with his worry and affection for Jason. Thought it hurt to admit that he still felt jealous and a little (too much) hurt about it. Since he was the grown-up, he was supposed to approach this with maturity. Dick was making an effort to do so, but Jason had been the first person Dick had to really share with Bruce (It was all about Robin). His ex-girlfriends didn’t count, as they hadn’t been his (loyal) partners fighting crime. Then again, Jason was filling his role as Robin (and he was doing a good job) and it hurt more than Dick would admit to anyone.

Dick wasn’t trying to pick a fight, but it had been an overwhelming thing to process. He had felt as if someone had ripped his heart out and left him there (alone, rejected, as a discontinued toy) to bleed to his death. Maybe Bruce didn’t remember but Robin had been _his_ creation. The _Wonder Boy_ was a part of himself and he never thought he would ever have to share that part of _himself_ with somebody else.

Dick didn’t want to pick a fight, but Bruce didn't have the right to share _his_ mantle, _his_ name —the one his mother gave to him— _his_ family colours, _his_ creation. Robin, —his beloved Robin— was the last piece Dick had of his family.

Dick didn’t want to pick a fight, but Robin represented the statue Dick couldn't build for The Flying Grayson (the one they deserved).

“We are okay, we are so okay, we are... ahhhh... don't do it, Dick, don't do it, you can't pick a fight, you just came back,” Dick poured water on his face and massaged his cheeks. “C'mon, Dick, keep yourself heveled, it’s alright.”

Almost ready to jump, Dick stood on the edge of the building and took one long look of the mystifying dark sky of Gotham. Everything was fine, he wasn’t going to pick a fight because tonight he was free to fly.

* * *

**Still in Gotham, May 29, a quarter before midnight.**

The mission went as missions usually went in Gotham. It was chaos dressed in spilt blood. Red blood painting the floor, red blood promising a future with more chaotic nights. It was a never-ending cycle of violence and too much caffeine for the Bats, and for their enemies, they possibly fixed themselves on lines of cocaine.

All the bad guys thought they had good fighting skills. Nobody had told them that they didn’t, for they were reckless and brutal. Strength without strategy didn’t take you far. Dick hoped that they stayed the same forever, strong and stupid. He hoped they never became a dangerous team like the League of Assassins. The Joker’s madness was more than enough for another tragedy to join the bloody parties of Gotham.

“Oh, Holy Bats, why does my inner monologue sound a lot like Batman?” Dick took down two thugs, and Barbara, who was near him, replied to his nonsense: “You want me to answer that for you, Wonder Boy?”

“It’s Nightwing, Wonder Boy is in the next room, and please,” an irrelevant thug thought he had a chance against Nightwing, Dick hit him in the head to help him to think better next time, “don’t make references about you-know-who and me.”

“My apologies, Mr Nighwing, I didn’t know you and Voldemort were an item,” the familiarity in which Barbara teased him punched Dick harder than any other thug. He had missed the Bats.

“I can handle this on my own, go and check on the Red Bird,” there were only two thugs left standing. And apparently, Roman hadn’t asked Zsasz to help him tonight, so yes, Barbara was right, the room was practically clear. 

“You want me to babysit him so he won’t get mad at you, right?” Dick pretended to be upset. Barbara didn’t even have to ask, Bruce had previously delegated him the same task.

“C’mon, don’t be a pain in the ass, he’s basically your step-son,” Barbara tried to joke but what she had said didn’t count as a joke. Jason was… well, he was Bruce’s son and Dick was…

“Oh my God! You froze!” Barbara sent the last pair of men standing to sleep with two electro-bullets. “I was joking, ‘Wing, relax.”

Dick nodded pathetically, did his head even move? He left the room with newfound motivation. Of all the things he wanted to talk about, he didn’t want to discuss the fact that Jason was his step-son.

As expected, Jason didn’t make it easier on him. If Wally and Roy had had a kid, Jason would have been his name. Hyperactive and stubborn; this had to be some type of negative karma Dick was paying for, or maybe it was a tasteless joke from the Universe.

In another world, in which Jason didn't leave his back on the open, in a world in which Jason hadn't been a few seconds away from getting a bullet in his head, Dick wouldn't have screamed at him, Dick would have kept his cool. That imaginary place was a better world but Dick wasn't in it.

The thirty's minutes drive back to Manor was painful. Dick wasn't even talking about the physical pain that his body sustained, no, it was emotional pain. The teenager was ignoring him, still quite mad that Dick had saved his head (life). Whereas Dick and Jason had had a rough start, the kid was a kid, therefore, he was going to act like one. Whilst Dick was being a complete idiot, he was the adult, why was he fighting a teenager back in his own game?

* * *

**In the Batcave, May 30, awake in an ungodly hour of the early morning or 2 AM EST.**

“Jason, there's something I'd like to explain to you,” Dick chose his words with caution. The last thing he wanted was to come as condescending or pushy.

“What?” Rude as Bruce with similar cold blue eyes. Dick bit his tongue to not make an unwelcomed comment about it (“Hostility, thy name is Wayne”).

“About what happened tonight, I want you to know that I didn’t mean to overstep. In no way I was trying to diminish your fighting skills, my intention was only to help you,” Dick was walking among fine, dangerous lines, so he didn't add the part of saving his life.

“So what now? Do you think I’m useless? For your information, I can handle myself, I don’t need your fucking overprotective ass saving me. If you want to look good for your ex, find another fucking time and place, dickhead.” Sure, Jason's words were defensive, but he wasn't screaming and he had actually listened to Dick, so he was going to consider this a win.

“Trust me, it wasn't about making a good impression on Barbara.” Here came the trickiest part, there was no way Dick was going to tell Jason that Bruce had asked him to keep an eye on him. Anyhow he paraphrased Bruce's words, Dick could hurt Jason's ego. A scenario like that would probably result in a violent reaction from Jason and Dick responding back. So no, _'be the adult, okay no, I suck at adulting_... _no, be smarter than his fears,'_ he told himself.

“Just so we are clear... I’ve seen old and recent videos of you fighting and there’s no doubt in my mind that you'd improved a lot in an atypical fast pace. And tonight, I saw you fighting better than other vigilantes I know, but you had me as a backup and I did what backup is supposed to do: I helped you out when a bullet came to hit you in one of your blind spots. And I get it, you are used to getting hurt because that comes with the job... but it was unnecessary damage and I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I had let that thug shot you.”

“Get off of your fucking high horse, Dick, if I had died, you wouldn't have shed a bloody tear,” Jason was a hard spectator to please. At least, the teen's troubled attitude would help Dick developed more patience.

“Alright, don't believe me, just give me the benefit of the doubt,” Dick wasn't going to become Jason's friend overnight, but tonight they could say good night on good terms.

Jason seemed to ponder something in his mind, he stayed in silence for a few minutes, and then looked at Dick to say: “Fine, but don’t expect me to thank you. And shut up, you’ve been here for a few hours and I’m already sick of listening to you, you’re ridiculous.”

Dick smiled a little, seeing right through Jason's act. Underneath it all, Jason was a scared kid who had been rejected too many times. He wasn't going to believe Dick cared for him, in case, Dick woke up one day and changed his mind. Dick wasn't going to pretend he understood what Jason had gone through before Bruce took him in, instead, he could learn how to communicate with Jason.

Jason hit the showers and Dick sat in the bat-computer to write tonight's report. Though he was too distracted to write something coherent. Dick tried to stay awake but his eyes weren't interested in cooperation. Dick thought he had closed his eyes only for a few minutes, however, the clock proved him wrong. He had lost half of an hour sleeping.

“Dick?” Jason asked from behind his chair, Dick turned to him. The teenager was already dressed for bed in a pair of red sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Dick felt his insides shrink because Jason appeared younger than this age with civilian clothes. Dick remembered Bruce told him that the kid hadn’t eaten a proper diet for most of his life, so Bruce had had to take him to a specialist for him to recover his immune system.

As Dick didn’t say anything, Jason asked: “You need extra details for the report?”

Dick half-smiled and denied with his face. “No, go to bed, I’ll take it from here.” Jason’s face lighted up and left.

As soon as Dick was sure that Jason was out of the cave, he allowed himself to break his facade. It was for the best, Dick needed silence and space. Seriously, why did Dick even bother with outside enemies when his brain did such a good job turning against himself? It was becoming impossible to focus, his head felt heavy and the light coming from the computer was causing him an unfamiliar type of pain.

“What the hell?” Dick tried to reach for his phone, however, his vision turned blurry and then it all went black.

Dick couldn't see and he couldn't move, he was very hard trying to breathe. Apparently, his body had forgotten the process of breathing.

“Heure de se réveiller,” somebody spoke... in French? He didn't recognise her voice.

“He-help,” Dick said, though his words only echoed inside his head.

Dick could tell he was surrounded, which it didn't make sense since he was in the batcave, was he still in the batcave?

A whisper on his ear said: “Voulez-vous voler comme un hibou?”

Why was she speaking to him in French? Only his mother spoke to him in French.

“Réveille-toi, Talon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] "Heure de se réveiller" is "Time to wake up."  
> "Voulez-vous voler comme un hibou?" in English is "Do you want to fly like an owl?  
> "Réveille-toi, Talon" is "Wake up, Talon."
> 
> [x] Was Bruce unnecessary rude to Clark? Yes. In this fic, Bruce sees Clark as his brother and siblings can be blunt and rude.
> 
> [x] And don't forget, reader, in this house, we don't follow canon's rules.
> 
> [x] I love to read your comments, so if you want, feel free to let me know what you think.


	7. 15 Step Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] Thank you so much for all the comments, subscriptions, bookmarks and kudos! 💙
> 
> [x] This chapter is short because I had a rough week. I couldn't finish my usual long chapters. So I had to divide this one into two parts, this is the first part. I will update the second part soon.

**Wayne Manor. May 30, 04:00 EST**

**Bruce**

When it came to Batman and his quest against crime, there were no exceptions made for anyone, the mission was first and the rest could wait. Except that it wasn’t true. Batman would drop whatever he was doing to save a member of his family, and then he would excuse his odd behaviour by filing the incident as a last-minute mission. It was a secret that Bruce kept for himself. One that Alfred and Dick knew too well and Bruce hoped that one day, Jason would get to understand.

In the meantime, his current last-minute mission was to find Dick and made sure that the Court was nowhere near him. If everything had gone as Bruce planned, Nightwing and Robin should be already sleeping. As for the opposite, even though Bruce had a contingency plan, he had to admit it wasn’t the right time to execute it. To confront the Court within the next hours was a complicated mission, but if they had taken Dick, Bruce didn’t have an option.

As soon as Bruce found a zeta-tube in Metropolis, he checked on his holographic computer if it had already found the location of Dick’s multiple trackers. In case the five trackers inside Dick’s boy failed, Bruce had planted other three trackers in the Nightwing’ suit. A feeling of relief washed over his body when he saw the red lights of the eight trackers in the Batcave. It wasn’t a full victory, there was the possibility that Dick and Jason were injured but if Alfred hadn’t called yet, it meant that they were arguably safe.

Bruce put aside the nagging Batman’s thoughts reminding him that once again, he was compromising his tasks over the feelings he had for Nightwing. Bruce glared at Batman, which basically meant that he glared at his own reflection, as he stepped into the zeta-tube. While Batman was right, Bruce couldn’t bring himself to stop. It had been a strenuous battle between his two personalities for Dick had been Bruce’s liability for such a long time, which caused that in the end, Bruce decided to accept that some feelings were far beyond his control.

In no time, Batman was teleported to the Batcave. He was met with silence and no one in apparent sight, which was understandable bearing in mind that it was four in the morning. Bruce glimpsed through the cave to make an analysis of all within visible sight. In front of the computer, sitting in the chair, Bruce spotted Dick sleeping. He rushed to his side and examined thoroughly and carefully Dick's current state. He seemed way paler than normal and his lips were dry. His sleep was profound but agitated, and if Bruce was reading him well, he had been having nightmares. Also, his temperature was low, 97.7 °F was unusual, Dick's normal temperature was 98.6 °F. As for his blood sugar level, it was 65 mg/dL, which alarmed Bruce to take action immediately.

Bruce woke up Dick carefully, but the young man only said Bruce’s name one time and then closed his eyes again. Bruce inserted an IV with a bolus of 50% dextrose in Dick’s arm and then proceed to read the report over and over again. Others said he was too methodical, but he did what was necessary. If reports were written well, one could find details that indicated a reason for a person to be unconscious.

The report was signed by Nightwing and considering the redaction using puns and words that didn’t exist according to the English dictionary, Bruce knew that Jason hadn't touched the report. There was no clue as to why Dick was in a weak state. So in a quick assessment, Bruce determined that it was merely an episode of hypoglycaemia, which was harmless as long as it was treated on time.

Regarding the Court of Owls issue, Bruce would have to ask Barbara later if she had seen anything weird or unusual during the last patrol, especially around Dick. Though if the Court had been there, they probably would have stayed silently watching them. As far as Bruce knew, they had a way to control their Talons through a serum, but Bruce hadn't found yet evidence if they had some chip engraved in their bodies. Which meant that his next step was to find a dead Talon or to drug a Talon and brought him to the Watchtower, where Dick couldn't find him.

It was useless to keep reading a report without the information Bruce required, so he closed the file and turned towards Dick. His lover was asleep. Bruce stared at his gorgeous face in silence, just sitting there, “like a creep,” Dick would say. But Dick didn't know that this was the only way for Bruce to look at him without confessing something that he might regret later or something that might make Dick uncomfortable. He didn't want to scare Dick away or worse, promise something he wouldn't be able to deliver.

A few minutes later, Bruce opted for waking Dick up and taking him upstairs with him. Technically, it was a better idea to monitor him in the Batcave, however, Bruce preferred to have his lover in his warm bed. In part, Bruce was making excuses for himself. The side of his brain that belonged to Batman was calling him reckless. Meanwhile, Bruce’s simple brain side didn’t care, he had been waiting months to get Dick back in the Manor, and there was no excuse to leave him sleeping on his own in the cold cave.

Besides, it hadn’t been easy to convince Dick to take vacations. Bruce understood that Dick was paving his own path with the Titans and he had a long history with his meta-friends. And Bruce didn’t _hate_ them, only disliked them a little. Bruce sacrificed himself for Gotham, but when it came to Dick, he was a selfish man. The only reason he didn’t openly oppose to his team was that they actually appreciated Dick. And Bruce wasn’t going to fight a group of meta-humans who held Dick in high regard. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he wanted Dick fighting by his side and waking up next to him. Sooner or later, he would ask him to stay longer… or forever. 

After shaking Dick’s shoulder a few times, Dick woke up and blinked his eyes. “Bruce?” his youthful voice was raspy and his soft, blue eyes made contact with Bruce’s, “you are here.”

“I am,” Bruce kissed his lips, “let’s go to bed, lean on me.” Dick was happy to join Bruce, he hugged him first and then took his arm to walk together.

“I’m kind of dead weight,” Dick’s breathing against his neck made Bruce shiver. Bruce was sure that Dick didn’t understand thoroughly the kind of effect he made on him.

Bruce kissed his hair, making a mental note that it was rather a bad idea to push Dick against a wall and had him there on his knees. A bad, bad idea.

“I got you,” and he did. Bruce wasn’t going to let Dick fall down.

As they walked through the dark corridors of the Manor to Bruce’s bedroom, Bruce halted outside Jason’s dorm. Luckily for him, Dick took the hint and let go of his arm, leaning to the wall and giving Bruce a small smile.

“Go inside and be a good bat-dad, honey,” Dick kept smiling but Bruce found himself uncomfortable under his gaze. It made things more real. Dick was here, Jason was here, and Alfred as well. For a moment, he had everything, and at any moment, he could burn everything down.

“B,” he heard Dick said and then Bruce noticed that Dick had opened the door of Jason’s bedroom for him. “Don’t you worry, I won’t tell anyone that the big Bat has a heart.”

In the dark, Bruce let a smile appeared on his face, trusting that the light wouldn’t reveal too much. After that, he entered his son’s bedroom and found him sleeping safe and sound. It was all he needed to know, in order to have his checklist done for the night. As he went out, Bruce kept his steps stealthy and closed the door behind him.

Bruce found Dick sitting on the floor, it was evident that he was exhausted. “Dick,” Bruce offered his hand to him and Dick took it as a support to get back on his feet. Bruce didn’t miss the opportunity for embracing his warm body with his arms.

“Is there something wrong?” Dick asked, probably because Bruce was staring at him in the dark, like a hungry predator.

That was another thing that went unsaying from Bruce, for him Dick was quite unreal. In the eyes of Bruce, Dick was similar to the personification of a magical being, as a ferocious fairy, than a human.

“Everything’s fine,” _now that you are here._ Bruce wrapped his arm around Dick’s waist and led him to his bedroom.

“My head hurts — don’t you want to know what happened in patrol? It’s strange that you are not bombarding me with questions.” 

Apparently, Dick was confused by Bruce’s silence and he had a good point, hardly ever an injury had stopped Bruce from asking questions. However, it seemed everything was in order. It was Dick the only one who needed assistance.

“I read your report. It was insufficient, though not entirely bad, it had a lot of areas for improvement. I assumed you weren’t in your right mind when you wrote it.” Batman was talking, but Batman wasn’t invited to their private relationship, neither was Nightwing. That was what they had promised to each other. It wasn’t a lie but a wish. They had tried and failed, and they were kind in the middle of learning to forgive each other for their fault on this.

“That’s not comforting at all. I’ll review it later, check if there is something I missed that may be relevant,” Nightwing pressured himself to say, his head wasn’t thinking clearly but Nightwing wasn’t going to let Batman called his reports worthless. “I’m sorry,” Dick added, though Bruce didn’t know if he were talking to Batman or Bruce, or both. 

“It’s alright,” Bruce soothed his tone, trying to be less Batman and more Bruce. The last thing Dick needed was someone scolding him. Moreover, Bruce could ask Dick for further details later when the headache had passed.

Bruce laid Dick down in the bed, slow and careful, trying to express through his touch that he cared for Dick. It was easier that way as he didn’t trust himself with choosing the right words. Bruce stalled a little, though hesitation was a foreign concept for him, Dick made him break his rules. Nothing new.

Fortunately for him, Dick was an expert at reading between the lines. He filled the blanks: “I missed you.”

“I’m right here,” Bruce kissed him. Tasting his lover’s lips was easier than talking and unlike his spoken expressions skills, Bruce was proficient in kissing.

Bruce tried to keep the pace slow but Dick was just right there, kissing him back with his hands on Bruce’s shoulder. Then Dick moaned in a quiet whisper and all Bruce’s self-control proved to be useless. Bruce pushed his tongue past Dick’s lips and breathed into his mouth. Dick was exactly as he remembered, wet and warm, and pliant under his touch. He drove Bruce crazy, waking up an animalistic desire to possess him and mark him as his for the world to see.

It was for the best that somebody knocked on the door, Bruce was taking things too far and Dick hadn’t recovered entirely yet. Dick cleaned from his lips the trail of saliva they had shared, as he said: “Alfred?”

Bruce nodded as a reply. Alfred was the one who Bruce kept awake at these hours. He had hoped that the butler was sleeping, without noticing that Bruce had already arrived. Of course, it was too much to ask. Not even one member of the family had a chance against Alfred’s intuition.

The resistance of facing Alfred most likely showed on Bruce’s face, as Dick patted his shoulder for Bruce to not let Alfred waiting.

“He knows, right? You told him?” Bruce chose to ignore Dick’s question and walked towards the door.

Bruce’s silence didn’t stop Dick from trying to get an answer. “It’s Alfred, he knows everything, we can’t hide from him,” Dick was right. And if his voice was any louder, it wouldn’t be necessary for Bruce to talk to Alfred at all.

As soon as Bruce saw Alfred standing outside the room for him, he knew that Alfred knew Dick was with him. “He’s fine,” _sleeping on my bed_ went unsaid, details like that could upset Alfred and Bruce hadn’t tested Alfred’s limits yet.

“I trust that Metropolis is doing fine as well, Master Bruce,” Alfred spoke in a solemn tone, which Bruce hated it. The way Alfred made him feel like an unruly teenager sneaking a boyfriend in his own house was embarrassing. Bruce was a grown-up man who had a playboy reputation, he had brought home very questionable dates and hook-ups before. He wasn’t proud but it meant that Alfred was overreacting.

“Certainly, out of danger.” 

“Excellent, Sir, as for Master Dick, I trust you will give him the time and space for him to rest properly?” For a moment, Bruce was taken aback by the implication of Alfred’s question but he decided to let it slide. Alfred cared for Dick too, it couldn’t be easy for him to be in the middle of their relationship. 

“We will _both_ sleep,” Bruce assured him. “Are we still on the same page about later, though? 

“We are, Master Bruce. Master Jason and I will be back until midnight.”

”Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce replied with sincerity washing over his words. 

Alfred hummed and supplied Bruce with two cups of tea and one with milk on a porcelain platter. “May both of you rest well,” Alfred nodded and left to his own room.

Bruce returned to his Dick’s side and sat next to him. “It seems he doesn’t trust me with your recovery.”

“I assume it’s because you don’t take care well of yourself,” Dick added as Bruce served him the tea with a splash of milk.

“He’s overreacting, I wouldn’t hurt you,” Bruce indulged on his tea, it was sweetened with honey, Dick’s preference.

Dick smiled and caressed Bruce’s cheek with his fingers. “It’s not personal. Alfred treats me as a child, he thinks I’m still twelve. Besides, the only reason you’re mad is that you’re a spoiled, rich man child, whose butler always take his side.”

“And here I was thinking you were too sick to be this sharp,” Bruce gave him a soft pat on his knee. 

“Bold of you to assume that a low level of blood sugar would stop me,” Dick chuckled, the playful smile on his lips was worth for Bruce to let him have his fun. 

Nonetheless, it was getting quite late for them, as it was an early morning for the rest of Gotham. Five in the morning, the clock showed. With that in mind, Bruce grasped Dick’s wrist and kissed the inner side. “I think we need to sleep.”

“Then come here,” Dick smiled and patted the bed with his other hand.

Bruce left the cup of tea by the nightstand. And just to make sure that everything was in order, he asked: “Do you need something else?”

”You — here, next to me,” Dick had recovered some colour on his face and it seemed he had gotten back the energy to be his usual self: open and flirty.

Bruce turned off the lights and took his side next to his lover, wrapping one arm around Dick’s chest.

“Good night,” Dick mumbled.

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are on chapter 7 and you're still here, thank you for reading!  
> I appreciate comments a lot, they give me extra motivation 💙


	8. 15 Step Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin drama, time for the lovers and evidence for the spy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] I changed the title of the story, personal preference, "Out of the Woods," was the original title of this story.  
> [x] It took me so long to update, sorry. This is the continuation of the last chapter, so it's the same day.

**Wayne Manor. May 30, 06:00 EST**

**Bruce**

Foolish little mistakes. Bruce was abruptly awaked by his detective mind, something had made click. How did he not see it before? was the real question. There were timing and patterns. All paths took to Dick. Of course, the Court of Owls would kidnap stray kids around the same age that Dick had when he was orphaned. The kids Jason had talked about disappearing in the streets, they had to be connected somehow to the Court's pursuit. What could it be? There were many options for Bruce to think about, he had confronted criminal organizations of all kinds. However, the Court was like nothing else. They believed they were doing the right thing to protect Gotham and the World. They weren't just an organization, they were a dynasty with a code and traditions.

As if Dick sensed Bruce's distress in his sleep, his young lover curled up closer to his body, resting his head on Bruce's chest. In the quiet early morning, the only sounds that could be heard were the chirping of birds outside the high-ceiling windows of the master bedroom. There was barely light to illuminate the features of Dick's face, which didn't stop Bruce to force his vision. Sometimes he forgot how handsome Dick truly was, beyond his vision influenced by his feelings. Bruce almost stayed more time in bed to hold his lover, but he was running out of time. He wouldn't be able to do anything suspicious if Dick was awake, the one person that had a chance against Dick regarding reading Bruce was Alfred.

Bruce disentangled himself carefully from his octopus-boyfriend. It was a miracle Dick didn't wake up. Bruce made it to the hallway and then, to the studio in complete stealth, until out of nowhere, Jason appeared to greet him. In silence, Bruce cursed himself for teaching his Robins so well to sneak on others.

"Hi, dad! Is Dick awake? How mad do you think he's gonna be if I wake up him? I just want to say hi." Bruce wondered where did Jason take the energy to be this cheerful. Bruce hardly grasped what Jason was saying, it was too early for his mind. This was what he got from adopting a morning type of kid.

"No, leave him alone, he locks his room, he doesn't like interruptions," was the best excuse Bruce found to not explain why he had been the one who locked Dick's bedroom.

"I thought you said he was a morning person like me." For a kid as loud and impulsive as Jason, it amazed Bruce that he was a good listener.

"People change," Jason didn't look like he believed what Bruce had said, however, Bruce wasn't in the mood of explaining things. "Shouldn't you and Alfred be on your way to New York?"

"I'm waiting for him. Agent A said he needed to do something," Jason waved to the Batcave's entrance, "for Batman."

"But Batman didn't ask him to do anything." The reply in the third person was natural for Bruce, he did it all the time, and yet Jason kept rolling his eyes when he heard him speak like that.

"Why don't ya go down to the cave and ask him for yourself?"

"Unnecessary, Master Jason. I'm right here," Alfred materialized behind Bruce.

"May we please, please, go now, Alf?"

Bruce snorted watching the teenager, it was endearing to look at Jason begged like a kid with the oversized red hoodie he was wearing.

"Master Jason, why don't you wait for me in the car? I have a business pending with Batman," Alfred addressed the teenager with a calm voice. Bruce sighed watching the interaction; what Alfred had in patience was exactly what Bruce didn't have at all.

Alfred waited for Jason's footsteps to disappear into the corridors to speak.

"I assume you were looking for this information, Sir," Alfred passed Bruce a small, black USB with the Bat symbol. "I talked to Master Jason, it seems that Miss Gordon didn't find anything atypical with the style of kidnapping. The _modus operandi_ is similar to the one the other criminals use in Gotham."

"How did you-" No, stupid question, how did Alfred know everything is a mystery that Bruce wouldn't solve in this life. "Thanks, I will look into it."

"And Master Bruce, don't forget that there is a young man in your bedroom waiting for you. One that discovered the secret entrance of the Batcave when he was just a child. It would be unwise to keep him in the shadows for too long."

"I understand," Bruce affirmed.

"Do you know, Sir? Because secrets had caused terrible trouble to Batman within the Justice League and to Bruce Wayne in his relationships." There was no anger in Alfred's voice, it was just the tired voice of a father. Bruce could relate, that was the tone of his voice talking Jason out of his tantrums.

"It's fine, Alfred." It was a useless answer, though there was nothing else Bruce could say.

Alfred's gaze turned serious. "I believe you are offending Master Dick's intelligence but if say everything's fine, then so be it, Sir." If words were knives, Alfred would have stabbed Bruce.

"Have a good trip," Bruce said as he disappeared into the Batcave. He had to dismiss this conversation, first, because he had a plan, and second, because Alfred was right.

* * *

**Wayne Manor. May 30, 12:00 EST**

**Dick**

Dick woke up with his eyes stinging and blatantly offended by the shining light coming from outside. There was no one around and in any other time, he would have looked for Bruce, but he felt uneasy just thinking about wandering the corridors of the Manor alone.

Wayne Manor had been his home for years until it wasn’t... Though Dick didn’t like talking about it, he felt nostalgia about living here, even if it was such a huge and empty place. It lacked colours and it wasn’t loud and shining like the Circus, but it was home and in spite of all the things that went wrong, he had felt appreciated and accepted by the members of this house. Unlike the Titans, Alfred, Bruce and he made a little family. He hadn’t had the chance to see how things would go with Jason here, though the thought was not displeasing.

“Damn, get over yourself, Grayson,” Dick snapped at himself. He had become too apprehensive after he had left Robin behind. He was doing exactly what he hated about Bruce, rejecting other people by fear. This wasn’t like him, he needed to chill. Changes were something good, changing was a new and fascinating thing to do as jumping without a net to catch him. Besides Jason wasn’t that different from him. Jason had been a forlorn kid without home and family too. And if Robin had given Jason a purpose and helped him to find a better path in life, who was Dick to take that away from him.

_'I am the original, but let's not go there...'_

Dick stood up and made it to the bathroom. He hadn’t seen the hour but it seemed late. He splashed his face with water and gently massaged his cheeks. He tried to relax, to keep the Robin uniform out of his mind and yet, Robin was all he could think about.   
  
He looked at himself in the mirror and all he could see was his younger self, hiding behind a domino mask. “It’s what you wanted, remember? To help other kids like you. That is what Robin is, let him go. Besides, if nobody is Robin, then Robin can't help anyone.”

And this time who he saw in the mirror was his current self wearing the Robin domino mask. _‘But we are Robin too, and we were first. My mother called me Robin. I was — I was the only Robin because Robin was (is) me. How am I supposed to give myself away and be okay with it?’_

The uneasy thoughts spiralled inside his mind, but Dick didn’t dare to speak them aloud, just in case Batman was listening. Dick thought it would be hard to speak with Bruce about it, but maybe Bruce wasn’t the real issue. It was Batman because it had been Batman the one who gave Robin away. 

_‘You can’t just throw me away, you can’t just get yourself another Robin. I am Robin.’_

“Shit,” Dick hid his face with his hands and tried to think about anything else that wasn’t red, green and yellow. 

_‘You mean, Nightwing?’_

Fights against his own mind were something Dick didn't usually win, so he dropped his inner battle. The best remedy was to take a cold shower; it was literally cold and uncomfortable, he couldn't think about anything else, besides the numbness of his body under the water. It was a quick fix while he found something else to do for his mind to shut up.

"You seem very focused," The deep voice of Bruce echoed in Dick's ear. Thanks to all his training he didn't jump either fall, though he was sure that Bruce noticed that he had his guard down. "I scared you."

"Want a medal for that?" Dick smiled and turn off the water flux.

Bruce eyed him up and down, "Are you the medal?" Bruce's gaze leered over Dick's nudity, Dick blushed and threw himself to Bruce's arms, their noses clashed slightly and Dick licked Bruce's bottom lip. Dick felt Bruce's lips moved and opened for him, they joined in a celebration of spit and tongue, fighting to eat one another.

"Dick," he heard his name coming from Dick's lips and moaned, it felt right when Bruce said his name, it made everything more real. "Oxygen," Bruce insisted.

"Yeah, sure, sorry," Dick took a step back to pat Bruce's chest, "I got carried away."

"Did you sleep well?" Bruce asked pressing Dick's back against the wall with, which would make Dick less self-conscious if it wasn't for the fact that he was naked, while Bruce was fully dressed.

"I did but I missed you when I woke up... I like it when you are there," Dick held onto Bruce's shoulders and kissed him with softly, "with me."

Bruce brushed his lips together, "I like waking up with you too but I thought you were tired from last night, I didn't want to interrupt," Bruce kissed his hair and pulled Dick closer. Dick smiled and buried his face on the crook of Bruce's neck, pecking it with small kisses. 

"Come to bed." As if Dick needed to be told twice for such an invitation, he poked up his face and grinned, he was happy to follow. Dick took Bruce's hand and stayed a step behind, he wanted to leer on Bruce's back. He wanted to live on repeat the feeling of holding onto those strong back muscles as Bruce pushed into his body with his hard erection. Dick couldn't hold back more and he was about to make the first move, however, Bruce had other plans. He took Dick by his waist with one arm, he gave him one gentle kiss on his cheek and then threw Dick to the bed on his back, as if Dick weighed nothing.

Dick bounced twice, parting his legs to show Bruce how hard he already was; Dick was naked and clean, he might as well not lose time. Bruce sat between his legs and rested his hands on Dick's knees. Dick tried to sit and take off Bruce's shirt, but Bruce stopped him with one hand on Dick's chest, he pushed him back to lay on the mattress.

“I’ve been waiting...” Bruce moved his head close to Dick's erection.

"Me too," Dick exhaled in a deep breathe. Waiting was not the word he would use, craving was rather accurate. Dick spent his nights thinking about the next time he would see Bruce, just to have him this close and feel the warmth radiating from his body.

Bruce licked his hard length and stared at Dick with heavy lust on his eyes. The undivided attention Bruce had on him made Dick more eager, he wanted to swim inside those dark eyes that were looking at him with abandon.

"Please?" Dick sighed with his lips parted and licked his lips. He would do anything to make Bruce all his self-control.

"Tease," Bruce kissed the head of Dick's cock and then indulged on taking it all on his mouth. Dick's mouth went wide because Bruce said he had been waiting for this, he had been expecting to see Dick and choke on his cock and Dick was just a man, a weak and horny man. He hummed in bliss; he cupped Bruce's head with his hand, not grasping either pulling, just feeling the sensation of his cock through the skin of Bruce's cheek. 

Bruce held the eye contact, not losing it once, as he bobbed his head up and down engulfing Dick's cock and tasting it with his tongue. It was obscene but it was also crafted to hit all the spots Dick liked. Obsessively perfect, just like Bruce was.

"Ahh, not gonna last," Dick warned. He hadn't touched himself in days, too stressed with training and his team, the overpowering relief was urging to take over and sent an electrifying orgasm to Dick's senses.

Bruce tapped his hips to let him know that Dick could come anytime he wanted. Dick grasped Bruce's hair to pull Bruce deeper but Bruce intercepted his wrist and used his other hand to jerk him off until Dick spammed under him, panting heavily and coming on Bruce's lips.

Dick closed his eyes and smiled under the effect of the pleasure, he felt Bruce's hands traced his abs and his lips kissing his shoulders.

"Hey," Dick whispered as he entangled his fingers on Bruce's hair.

"You are back," Bruce bit Dick's jaw gently.

Dick took one of Bruce's hands and kissed it, "I'm always here for you," Dick hugged Bruce tightly, he was huge and strong and Dick loved every bit of him, "always."

Bruce took a nap, Dick didn't have in him to wake him up from his sleep. Whatever small amount of sleep that Bruce got as extra was good, the Gotham's stale streets knew better than anyone that Bruce didn't get enough sleep.

Just right when Bruce woke up, Dick turned to kiss him, “I’m starving.”

Bruce hummed in response, "What time is it?"

"Late, almost five o'clock," Dick took another bite of his apple, he didn't remember when was the last time he ate solid food. Probably yesterday for lunch.

"I made a reservation for us; hurry up and put some clothes on," Bruce kissed his cheek and left the room to make a call.

Dick wasn’t trying to impress him with his looks, Bruce had seen him naked. Aside from the anxiety, self-sacrificing tendencies and questionable self-esteem, Dick knew he had a great body. And maybe, an unconscious part of him wanted to make Bruce lose his self-control again. So a pair of tight pants, a fitted shirt and a leather jacket was a good choice to begin. 

Dick quickly dressed and caught up with Bruce at the front entrance, who was already waiting for him. By the way, Bruce had stared at him, Dick knew he had won. 

**... ... ...  
**

The drive to the restaurant was slow on the traffic of Gotham's streets. Instead of talking, they fell into a comfortable silence. Dick admired the view of Gotham forming into his vision, it nearly looked like any other city. Nevertheless, Dick the daylight and the skyscrapers didn't fool Dick. There were a haunting misery and monsters living around the corners, it was as if the city itself had lost hope to ever change into something clearer.

"You are brooding," Bruce squeezed Dick's hand to get his attention.

"And here I thought we were driving in comfortable silence." Dick stretched his arms and shifted his body, so he could see Bruce. "You are not the only one who can brood, Bruce... brood? Bruce? Brooced, to be brooced, brooceing as in brooding like _you_ , what do you think?” Dick smiled and poke Bruce's forearm.

"I think that you are a disgrace for the English language," Bruce’s tone had no venom, so Dick laughed.

"But you like it, how did you use to call me? Punster something?"

"My monster punster," Bruce replied with a small smile on his lips. Dick didn't miss the _my_ Bruce added. He did call him monster punster, he just didn't use to call Dick _mine_. Dick thought he liked a lot, more than a lot, it was splendid and he wanted Bruce to say it all the time. Maybe it was too forward if he asked, but one of these days, he would get the courage to ask him.

“See? You're soft inside," Dick stroked Bruce's cheek for a second, then Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "Let me drive, Dick," Bruce snarked.

"Grumpy Bat, the irony. Did you know that bats are actually affectionate animals and they like to cuddle? Unlike... I don't know, owls..."

"Owls?" Bruce asked shocked.

"Yeah, owls are actually very unfriendly animals, they pretend to be cute and nice, but it's all a lie. They barely tolerate the existence of others, they're considered the least social birds... why are you looking at me like that?" Bruce had his detective gaze on Dick, it was weird. Bruce used that particular gaze for cases, suspects and criminals. It was cold and accusative. It was made for guilty people to confess and spill all the details of their crimes. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bruce dismissed his accusation, but Dick knew Bruce knew what Dick was talking about. Needless to say, Dick didn't like when Bruce looked at him that way. Especially because this was the first time used it on him, Bruce didn't need to look him that way. Dick was someone he trusted, he was his partner, he had been Robin, he was loyal to Bruce. If there was someone who would prefer to die than betraying Bruce, that person was him. 

"Did I say something wrong?" Dick tried to hide the hurt expression on his face, though if the way Bruce's features soften was any indicator, Dick hadn't been quick to do it. 

"Nothing. Only that I have never heard you talk about owls before, I thought you liked dogs and cats," Bruce's excuse was valid, but not good enough for Dick to buy it. The man was hiding something from Dick.

"Oh, I saw a documentary... you know, after midnight when there's no patrol, I was alone in my room and bored, so... I turned on the TV and there it was, a program dedicated to owls. I thought it was interesting and the narrator's voice was louder than my anxiety, so there is that..." Dick waved his hand as if to say _nothing important._ "Are we parking here?" Bruce nodded and parked the car, Bruce remained silent, which was normal, though Dick didn't like the way his silence sounded.

"Why are you acting so weird? Are you gonna get me a dog or a cat? Because I would like a cat, I don't have time for a dog but a cat would be nice, you should get me a cat," Dick filled the troubling silence with his chattering, he hoped he could ease Bruce a little. He had been nice and soft until Dick started talking about bats and owls. Was Bruce scared of owls as he was of bats?

"I prefer dogs," Bruce said as he opened the door of the car for Dick. It was nice, though he was more than capable of doing it for himself and Dick wasn't sure if he liked Bruce treating him as one of his ladies, but for now he could enjoy these little details.

"Does it mean we are getting a dog... together?" Dick asked smiling as he invaded Bruce's personal space. "Please?"

"No, Alfred can't take care of a dog."

"But he already takes care of Jason, what's another pet?" Dick laughed but Bruce didn't laugh, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I went too far. You know I say stupid things when I get nervous and you're acting weird, and you still don't shut me up, just shut me up for-"

Bruce kissed him, "Here, I release you for the curse of speaking for both of us."

**... ... ...**

The restaurant Bruce chose was the fanciest Italian restaurant in Gotham, they also had the best _osso buco alla milanese_ , which was Dick's favourite Italian dish. Besides, this was one of the Italian places that didn't have bonds with Falcone or the Maroni family.  


Bruce walked Dick to the second floor, which was all reserved under the name of Bruce Wayne. The hostess, who shamelessly flirted with Bruce as Dick giggled behind Bruce's back, took their order and served them an expensive wine. 

Dick waited for the lady to be out of hearing range to speak. "You are spoiling me."

“It’s nothing,” Bruce leaned towards Dick and brushed his hand with his fingertips.

“Meaning you’re grateful I’m not into diamonds and swords?” Dick laughed.

“You are never going to drop Selina and Talia, aren’t you?”

”And miss the opportunity of teasing you for having dated two criminals? no, I don’t think so, _my_ _beloved_ ,” Dick made his best impression of Talia’s accent. God, he hated that woman, but her accent was nice.

“This is why I don't take you out, Dick."

"Excuses, excuses," Dick leaned his face closer to Bruce and looked into his eyes and then to his lips. If Bruce didn't want to kiss him here, he would have time to stop him. Though Bruce didn't halt him and Dick dived into Bruce's mouth.

Bruce parted from the kiss and cleaned Dick's lips with his thumb, "I bought their silence, but let's not push it."

Dick rolled his eyes; the hostess and the waiter were going to think that Dick was Mr Wayne's latest mistress. He didn't care for he shouldn't care, though logic wasn't good at negotiating with his heart.

Whatever Bruce had said, Dick didn't stop talking and flirting with Bruce. He patted Bruce’s thigh under the table, meanwhile, Bruce tried to pretend he was unaffected. Bruce was a simple prey for Dick's charming smile, as Bruce knew what Dick's lips and hands were capable of doing.

"Dick," Bruce warned.

"I'm sorry, I forget we were in public," Dick took another bite of his food.

"You are not sorry," Bruce's face was too close to his, Dick felt Bruce's breath on his skin, "You are incorrigible," Bruce's hand met Dick's under the table. "A menace and wild."

"Sounds accurate," Dick tilted his head to touch Bruce's cheek with his nose. "But you like me like that."

"I do," Bruce's voice was low. It was a whisper for Dick to hear and no one else. 

Dick didn't surrender, he didn't relent until he made Bruce laughed. He loved this dark and sour man, and even if he didn't have any peace to offer as he carried an uncertain and violent life on his own, Dick was still a believer in love. He didn't know why he hadn't given up yet. A lot of times it seemed a lost fight, but then he got to see a real smile on Bruce's face, and the world made sense again.

**... ... ...**

On their way out of the restaurant, they met two paparazzi with their rude flashes. Dick was great at smiling, it was his natural reaction to life unless it involved a paparazzi. He disliked those monster-sharks who made a career on destroying other's private lives. As far as Dick was concerned, they were as disgusting as the criminals he beat at nights as Nightwing. The sole difference was that Dick couldn't hit them, not even as Nightwing, technically, what they were doing was legal.

Dick got into the car and huffed an irritated "Fuck them," as he dragged a hand through his hair. Bruce hummed in agreement as he drove fast from the invasive cameras.

"Where are we going now? Theatre? Ballet, maybe?" Dick knew these things like the back of his hand. People like Bruce weren’t free to roam the streets in jeans and eat a hamburger in McDonald’s without the press smashing them. Bruce had to put on a show, wear his best suit, choose the best restaurant and then attend to a high class social preferred events like theatre, ballet or an Orchestra concert. It was a tiring show, but Dick didn’t mind as long as Bruce was by his side.

"No," was Bruce answer.

Dick tapped his fingers on the car window as he waited for a further explanation that didn't come. "Care to elaborate?"

"Hn, somewhere," Bruce said mindlessly with his eyes focused on the road.

"Sure, B," Dick didn’t ask another question and let it be whatever it was supposed to be. Bruce had planned all of this for Dick and that was all he needed to know.

Bruce drove them to his favourite sightseeing place outside Gotham. He could see all the city from here and as it was getting late, the darkness was, little by little, trapping Gotham in a haunting dim light, that was both haunting and mystic. 

"Holy Bats! You remembered," Dick gasped recognizing that this had been his favourite spot as Robin, where he parked his bike and came to be alone. Batman was way over his heeds sometimes, overwhelming Robin; Robin used to pick up his bike and cycle over here. The first time he did it, he hadn't been wasn't sure if Batman had followed him or how had Batman found him. Nevertheless, Robin didn't stop escaping to this place and Batman kept coming for him when it was getting too early in the morning, and if Batman failed to show up, then Bruce was the one who drove him home.

"How could I forget? You gave me a heart attack the first time you came here on your own... I looked for you all night," Bruce parked the car and opened the convertible roof.

"Was it that bad? I remember you were angry, though you were angry before I left."

"I was mad, but not at you, Dick."

Dick didn't remember what happened that night, it was merely a blurry memory in his head. All he remembered was the pain of rejection, he wasn't good at handling Batman's rage and these days, he barely had improved. Yes, he had the guts to fight Batman, not even Superman was as bold as him, however, it didn't end there. If Dick fought Batman, he was going to fight Bruce sooner or later.

"Anyway, thank you," Dick kissed Bruce and leaned on his right arm.

"For what?" Bruce hugged Dick with one arm, keeping Dick close to his chest.

"Doing this for me, us," Dick smiled and rested his head on Bruce's shoulder. The moment was peaceful; sacred vibe surrounding them. Dick felt guilty to interrupt the quietness among them. However, this was a good opportunity for them to talk. Bruce surely would want to talk to him in the Batcave or in the master bedroom, places that were certainly safer for Bruce.

"Hey, I think we need to talk, you know... I need to know the rules, I wouldn't know if I may handle them... you have to tell me where we stand, okay?" Dick's heart rate speeded, he wanted to be fine with whatever Bruce was going to say. Though he had a feeling he would need more than just good intentions to be on the same page with Bruce.

"Two weeks. Let me see how Jason adapts to your presence in the Manor and then, I will talk to him," Bruce was clear, he even gave Dick a deadline, that was a good beginning considering his immature, emotionally constipated ass.

"I don't mind pretending we're just friends outside the Manor, I don't need all the cheap attention from the press. But when it comes to living in the Manor, Bruce, it's going to be exhausting for me to pretend that we are not together. So I can do two weeks, that's alright, but if you change your mind, I don't think I can't wait for you to make up your mind. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Dick," Bruce cupped his face with one hand.

"I'm not kidding. Two weeks or I am out," Dick didn't lose the eye contact with Bruce and his gaze didn't soft a bit. He had to make it clear for Bruce to understand that Dick wasn't the same vulnerable twenty-one man who waited for him in the rain, just for Bruce to play a game Dick was destined to lose.

"I understand," Bruce kissed him with an open and wet kiss. The moves of his tongue on Dick's mouth went right straight to cock, the way his body reacted to Bruce's touch was ridiculous. It took a few seconds for Dick to move and sit on Bruce's lap as Bruce reclined the seat to give Dick the necessary space.

They continue to kiss and touch each other through their clothes. A voice inside Dick's mind cursed him for he didn't even finish the conversation with Bruce. Though there was no way that he was going to stop Bruce from palming his cock through his pants. It was too late, Dick was moaning into the kiss and his hands roamed under Bruce's shirt.

 _Talking, the thing you need to talk about,_ somebody said inside his brain. Dick didn't recognize the voice and he made no effort to make sense of it. Instead, Dick focused on the feeling of Bruce's grasping their erections together. Dick rocked his hips to get more friction from Bruce's cock, as Bruce fastened his moves with his hand.

Dick kissed Bruce with abandon, his hands held his neck and he scratched a little the sensitive skin. Bruce slapped his ass for Dick to stop but he couldn't, he was territorial and he wanted to leave his mark on Bruce's neck because he could, because he was there sitting on Bruce's lap and he was the one taking him home. Bruce returned him the unsolicited favour and bit Dick's neck. Dick didn't mind a little bit, actually, the small dose of pain did it for him as he came on Bruce's hand. Bruce followed him, messy and warm, spilling himself on Dick's shirt.

"That was nice," Dick smiled, the endorphins hit him hard.

"I ruined your shirt," Bruce passed him a small pack of Kleenex.

Dick laughed, "You are welcome to ruin me any time, any day."

"Hey," Bruce took Dick's hands on his own, "I really want you here with me," his eyes looked for Dick's, "trust me, I'm not playing you."

Dick sighed and mumbled a weak "yes," that didn't comfort neither of them.

Bruce insisted, he petted Dick's hair and kissed him. "I swear, you are all I want, Dick Grayson."

"I can't believe it took you all these years to say it," Dick smiled and hugged Bruce. He knew Bruce was rather a problematic man, and Dick wasn't walking blindly into this relationship. He had seen Bruce at his worst, but even then, Dick thought it was all worth for them to be together.

"Do you believe me?" Bruce asked in a vulnerable voice that was atypical for Bruce to use. It did take Dick aback, who didn't find a reason to doubt Bruce. "Yeah, I do."

When they headed back home, Dick stayed silent as he gave all his attention to the Batcomputer, which he used to catch up with the recent cases Batman and Robin had been dealing with. Gotham was still the crime city Dick remembered, and the current Dynamic Duo was doing a good job on keeping track with everything. Dick smiled internally, Nightwing was ready to dive into the night and kicked some asses.

* * *

**Drake Manor, May 30, another lazy Saturday.**

Tim had spent the day stalking the Waynes, it was a bad habit of him he wasn’t willing to change. They were the only reason his life had some spice, and by that, he meant that they gave him a reason to look forward to waking up the next day.

He was ignored by his parents all the time, so he took what he could get, and if spying the Wayne family had opened to him a new desire to put himself together, he was going to let it eat him alive.

Though the Wayne luxurious, eccentric (and slutty, looking at you, Bruce) way of living wasn’t something Tim had an interested in, Tim had discovered that there was something hiding under the surface. They weren’t just the playboy Bruce Wayne, his former circus ward and his new protégé, which the newspapers had called _the street rat_ and the newest Wayne’s charity case. No, when the day was over and the lights were gone, they were Batman and Robin, and for over a year, Batman, Robin and Nightwing.

The past two years had been rather boring in his job as a spy, Bruce had calmed down a lot, causing less and less trouble for the press to benefit from. And it seemed that Bruce had learnt a lot from his experience with Dick, for he kept Jason away from the spotlight. Meanwhile, Tim had the theory that Dick had become Nightwing, who had been spotted with the Titans. 

But today was different, Tim had been feed. Bruce, Jason, Dick and Alfred had graced him with their presence. And if he was overreacting, no one could blame him, Tim had nothing else to do with his pitiful existence.

Tim had made him a special mix of coffee, the one he reserved for only good times like when his dad wasn’t home trying to convince Tim that his life was worthless. Yeah, good times like when he was alone and in peace, or when the Waynes made public appearances.

Tim laid back on his bed, looking at his notes and once again, exploring all the possibilities of what he saw today meant for the future, rather say his future as a spy.

 **0700:** Jason and Alfred leave the house. Jason seemed a little upset (was it legal for someone to look that hot in a Saturday morning? Why am I so gay, mom?) And his hair is (perfectly) messy and his eyes are sore, had he been crying? He needs a boyfriend, evidently, ~~someonelikeme~~.

  
 **1700:** Dick Flying Grayson!!! OMG!!! He is back, he is here, he is in Gotham. Chill, chill, Tim, breath, he doesn’t know you exist. He looks even more handsome now and that ass! Is that Bruce? Yes, that is Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson walking together, Batman and Robin, together again.

Tim recalled getting goosebumps as he watched them together. They were the original duo, but they were something else too. Tim wasn’t sure what love was, his parents didn’t love him and Tim couldn’t say that his parent loved each other either. But he could tell that Bruce and Dick loved each other in the way soulmates did.

Tim played the memory on his mind: They walked in synchronicity to the car. Bruce’s presence was rather a wall of protection for Dick and the way Dick smiled to him was bright and warm. And when Bruce opened the car for Dick, Tim had seen the shift on Dick’s body, going from stiff and cautious to relaxed and grateful. It seemed that neither Tim nor Dick expected Bruce to make such a gesture for him. But what really took Tim aback was the expression on Bruce’s face when he walked to the driver’s door. Bruce was happy, though his face wasn’t expressive, Tim knew enough, by all the time he had been spying them, that the expression Bruce made was one of happiness.

 **2230:** Batman and the ex-Robin, current Nightwing, are back, still looking a lot like lovers than just friends. Again, Bruce opens Dick’s door for him and Dick is smiling, kind of laughing, that’s good. And Bruce hurries up to the front door of the Manor, leaving Dick behind, but Bruce doesn’t seem mad. Does he have a pressing Batman thing to do? Was there another Arkham breakout the police hadn’t reported yet? No, if that was the case, Night-Dick, would be running too. 

"So are they together? Or is it some form of tragic, unrequited love?" Tim wondered as he saw through his window in the direction of the Wayne Manor.

"Only time will tell, I guess."

 **2300:** Jason and Alfred are back. Jason looks sleepy but happy. It’s all good, the little Robin is smiling.

“Cool, all good in the Waynes’ life.”


	9. Some of Us Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] It's been a while, I’m sorry for the delay... I lost my job but now I have a new (and better) one... so I am back!
> 
> [x] Yeah, I changed the title of the fanfic again. I can’t pick one 🤔

**Court of Owls. June 01, 22:00 EST**

"Shall we begin?," Powers pondered with a solemn voice and his face hidden ––like everyone else–– behind an owl mask.

"Doctor, you make take a seat," Mrs Monroe offered and with a single glance to the woman behind her, the Talon obeyed her and pulled the chair for the doctor to sit.

"What part of the project should I begin with?" The Doctor sat with her hands folded on her lap. Her eyes twitched behind her mask, she thanked in silence for the cover of her doubtful expression.

"As I am the only one here who has been in charge of the process, you may begin from the start."

Dr Haas nodded and folding her hands on the table, she began with what she hoped was enough for the Court to be satisfied.

"As you may know, I’ve been working in an improvement for the nano-chips we install in the Talons’ brains. This one is least aggressive, which keeps them in better shape as the component isn’t toxic for the human composition. I tested the chip in the prospects you sent me. Though I may clarify that children’s brains work differently from an adult. Nonetheless, the risk was worth to take. Grayson has shown to be strong during all his life, the medical reports that were copied from Thompkins’ proved that he’s been a medical miracle more than once. He’s alive against all the odds, considering his night activities.”

Dr Haas stopped a moment to wait for questions coming from the other members. Through her eyes, they looked all stoic, with the exception of Kathryn’s son ––recent member––, who was listening eagerly to all the details of the newest Talon. She wasn’t surprised at all, he was going to become his new toy. Unless Kathryn decided to have some fun with him first. The pleasure of a new Talon, fresh and innocent, breakable. And this young man would have the pleasure to have at his feet the most promising Talon that she had ever seen.

"The operation to insert the non-chip was successful. According to the Talon who is been watching him, he hasn’t noticed the loss of memories from the night we kidnapped him.”

"Hasn’t the Bat said a thing?” Powers asked without hiding his surprise. His gaze looked for the Talon assigned to Grayson’s case. “You have permission to speak, Talon–Eight.”

"Masters," the Talon greeted. "Mr Wayne doesn’t suspect a thing about it. Though, he is still in contact with Clark Kent, which is why we solicited the kryptonite. From what we’ve seen, Superman is quite fond of Grayson, we don’t doubt that he will try to rescue him.”

"Talon was with the Titans when he was kidnapped, do they suspect something?” Powers turned to ask Kathryn but she was looking at Talon who restrained himself to not speak without permission. "Explain, Talon–Eight."

"Ma’am," he nodded. "He is the leader of the team, they didn't question him where he was going. We overheard the Amazon subject talked to the Arrow subject, they assumed that he left to spend the night with Mr Wayne."

A muffled giggle was heard. "So Mr Wayne is having his fun with the tool, while we are waiting to get it back. How does that make any sense, Kathryn?” Apparently, Mrs Powers has the same tendency to interrupt as her husband did. Neither of them seemed too bright but Dr Haas assumes that they were called for meetings as Mr Powers worked closely with Wayne Enterprises.

"If you let Ms Haas finish her explanation, you will see why we are waiting. There is nothing to worry about. Talon will be ready to serve once the brain reset is done. Mr Wayne trained him very well for us. Doctor Haas, please, you may continue."

Before Dr Hass opened her mouth to speak, Mrs Powers proceeded with her tantrum, typical of the Gothamite socialité. "May I remember you that Wayne and the Justice League stopped the Court once?"

"May I remember _you_ that it was a long time ago when we didn’t count with the help of The League of Shadows? And they barely stopped our operations, merely in the surface." Kathryn Monroe wasn’t known to raise her voice unless she as truly annoyed. "Dr Haas, continue."

"Yes, although the chip is a better version, as everything that touches the brain, it causes problematic side-effects. By now, Grayson has probably noticed that he has trouble sleeping and eating, nausea and difficulty to remember things. The blood pressure of his body must be low and if the chip is already altering his brain chemistry, he must be having hallucinations with memories of the Court. As you can see, it’s a lot of trouble for a grownup Talon, it’s better if Mr Wayne deals with it for us. Besides, if Talon has a complication like a seizure, Mr Wayne will look for a neurologist to check on Grayson and eventually, he will find me.”

"Are you sure that there is no risk we may lose him to brain damage? The Court has gone through a lot of trouble to get him." A member hiding in the shadows --one of those ones who refused to compromise their real identity-- asked.

"That won't happen. The reset will cause Talon to lose his past memories, only keeping the ones the Court installs. Emotions will be suppressed too but he will be as smart and capable as he is right now."

"Wonderful. When do you recommend us to collect him?" Finally, Mrs Monroe the question that mattered.

"The early date will be by the end of June. But sincerely, I recommend waiting for more time. His hallucinations will get bad and the part of his brain that regulates violence will have trouble measuring his impulses. If we push Talon and he loses control and murders someone ––considering Mr Wayne feels strongly against murder–– he will probably ostracize him and abandon him in an Arkham cell, where we may take him without trouble to rightfully serve the Court for the rest of his life."

"Excellent, Dr Haas. And if there's nothing else to discuss, we may begin Phase Two. Talon–Five and Grayson's assigned handler will monitor him."

* * *

**Wayne Manor. June 03, 08:00 EST**

**Bruce**

The sunny light flooded through the room, the noisy alarm and the calamity of being alive at such early hour for a night creature like him, all of that was a living hell for Bruce. On the bright side, he woke up with Dick curled up on his arms, warm and smooth, perfect by his side. Though time wasn't forgiven, he had to hurry up if he wanted to arrive early to Wayne Enterprises.

_Message: Mr Wayne. Do not forget (I beg you) the meeting we schedule for today at 10 in the morning. It IS highly important for the executive board to have your presence._

Bruce sighed heavily reading the message. Of course, the assistant he hired for her good reputation as responsible didn't forget to send a message, just in case Bruce decided it was a good day to play his drunk playboy personality, who didn't care at all for his obligations. He knew she wasn't going to stop until she got a decent answer. So he replied fast the text to avoid receiving a call. If it wasn't a Batman type of emergency, there was no way he was going to make an effort on articulating words without coffee running through his body.

_Message: You have nothing to worry about. I'll be on time._

With one last look to Dick's handsome face, Bruce disentangled from Dick's embrace and made his way to the bathroom. He wasn't proud to say he threw the phone on the bed but he did. This way he didn't have to hear it in the shower and answer pretending he cared for taxes.

"Screw them."

* * *

**Dick  
**

Dick woke up by hearing the ring of Bruce's phone. He stretched his arms to pick up the phone, he hoped it was a call from Clark, asking Bruce to help him with a world emergency or maybe, it could be a call from Diana asking them to help her track a criminal. Whatever, fighting or detective work, Dick was happy with both options. "Please, please, be Clark, be Diana, be anyone from the League." Dick's pleas didn't come true. Instead, the words that appeared on the screen were _Wayne Enterprises,_ which wasn't that bad. If Bruce were busy, he would need Nightwing and Robin to do his work.

Just as Bruce came out of the bathroom --freshly bathed, shaved and wearing a well-fitted suit-- Dick eyed him up and down. Dick blushed at how easy was for Bruce to catch his interest and incite the desire to climb him like a tree.

"You left your phone here and it woke me up," Dick pouted.

"I did," Bruce came closer to him and kissed him on the lips, "I forgot to mute it."

"That's a weak apology, B," Dick faked a mildly annoyed expression. At least he tried for both knew that Dick couldn't stay mad with Bruce for long. _"It's called separation anxiety disorder,"_ Dinah had told him in therapy, but did it truly matter? How sane were they supposed to be after years of crime-fighting together and saving each other's lives?

"What about this one?" Bruce buried his nose in his neck and kissed the small brown moles, leaning his weight onto Dick until his back touched the bed.

"Mmm... all forgiven but..." Dick unbuttoned the first two buttons of Bruce's shirt, "you can do better."

Bruce grasped his wrist, stopping him. Dick smirked at him, daring him to restrain him.

"I have an important meeting to attend, Dick," Bruce kissed the inner side of his wrist and let go of him.

"I understand," Dick patted his chest with both hands. "But you can't blame me for trying when you're looking this handsome." He gave him a peck on the lips, "good luck in the meeting, Mr Wayne."

"You are torturing me," Bruce said.

"I'm not," Dick kissed his earlobe, " _daddy."_

Bruce grunted into his ear, "you are a tease and you'll pay for it later."

"I'll hold you to it," Dick chuckled.

Just as Bruce tried to stand up, Dick held him by the arm but didn’t meet his eyes. He tensed through his racing thoughts overflowing his mind. _Too domestic, it is all too domestic, is it real? Is he trapped in another dimension and he hasn’t even noticed yet? Is he––_

"Hey," Bruce ran his thumb through Dick’s chin. "I’ll see you tonight." Bruce’s voice was too real for this to be fake. "I’m not going anywhere," Bruce reassured him, giving Dick some mental peace. Since the moment he stepped into Bruce’s bedroom to share the place as a couple, Dick had been waiting for Bruce to snap himself out of this fantasy and said it was _wrong,_ that Dick was _too young to understand_ or that he didn’t date men ––the scandal–– What would the elite of Gotham think?

"Have a nice day, B,” Dick hugged him and Bruce indulged him a little, rubbing his back. And reluctantly, Dick let him go when Bruce pulled back to leave.

"Dick," Bruce called from the door, "have breakfast with Jason, okay?"

"I will," Dick smiled, more forced than he intended.

To make sure Bruce wasn't listening, Dick waited for fifteen minutes after he left. "Fuck me." He had thought that nausea he was feeling before coming back to Gotham, it was rooted in his fear of Bruce changing his mind and realising that their relationship was a mistake. Though he had only been in Gotham for a few days, Bruce didn't seem to be tired of him or doubting what they had, yet his nausea hadn't subsided a little. "Head concussion? That'd make sense," and it was his last resource as an excuse to explain why he wasn't keeping his food down. It was a good choice, though, in the back of his mind, there was a voice telling him that it didn't make sense at all. People with head concussions can't do half of the acrobatics that he is still able to do.

"Anxiety?" It could be anxiety but then he would have to relax. He needed to stop overthinking every little thing Bruce did or said. And maybe ––unlikely but Dick held into hope–– the auditory hallucinations in a language he hardly ever used would stop. In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he spoke to someone in French, was it in an undercover mission?

Dick shook his head and fixed his hair with his hands. "I have no time for this." Jason was a morning person, the kid was probably on his way to have breakfast.

"I got this." He didn't but if Dick were a word by definition, he was optimistic. It was something he wouldn't give away, his capability to see the brighter side on everything. It was something he would keep to his last breathing.

* * *

**Dick**

By the time Dick made it to the kitchen, Alfred wasn't there anymore. Instead, he left a note saying that he would be back in a few hours. Dick served himself a big mug of black coffee and a small bowl of fruit. He was hungry but he was worried that if he ate more, he would throw up in front of Jason during the training. It wasn't Jason's responsibility to take care of him, it was the opposite, Dick was the one in charge to train him and make sure he didn't hurt himself.

"Small sacrifices," Dick said to himself. He would have to adapt and find another suitable time to eat. It was a small price to pay to not worry Jason, who would undoubtedly tell Bruce that Dick was sick. No, better to avoid causing unnecessary trouble.

It didn't take long for Jason to join him. "Good morning," Jason sat in front of him and looked around. "Is Bruce gone?"

"He had an early meeting, very important he said."

"Duh, boring," Jason snorted. Trying to be the adult, Dick suppressed his laugh, even though he knew that Bruce would agree too. Meetings with executives were boring in nature.

"Are you ready for today? We're going on a field trip."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Alfred wasn't around to correct Jason's language and Dick’s speech wasn't as clean as he wished he was, so he ignored Jason's foul mouth. "The training, Jason. I'm training you and I'm taking you out to a place where we can do some _live-action bat-training_."

"And Bruce was alright with that?" Jason looked at him with disbelief.

"I didn't tell him," Dick said with a low voice, sharing it as a secret between the two Robins.

"Sweet, the big bird isn't that Goldie, uh?" Only for a moment, Dick wished he could erase Jason's smug smile with a punch on his face. _Grownup, you are the grownup, be a grownup,_ he thought.

"I don't know exactly what Bruce told you but I wasn't that -- I caused him a lot of trouble."

"With that puppy face? I don't believe you, dickhead," Jason had a daring fire on his eyes, which made Dick think that Jason still believed that he was just a spoiled, rich brat.

"Just shut up and follow my instructions today. If you behave, I may convince Bruce that you're ready to go on a trip with me to Starlight City. I'm meeting a friend there in two weeks, more or less."

Jason's bright eyes lighted up at the possibility, "you mean with the Arrows? But Bruce hates Oliver, he says he's reckless and stupid dangerously for his own good. He will never let me go!"

"Don’t ya worry, I got this. And Bruce doesn't hate Oliver, he just... he's just too strict with the JLA members. They make mistakes that aren’t permitted in Bruce’s high standards but even superheroes make mistakes, okay? Bruce is going to pressure to be perfect but you don’t have to be, it’s fine to be who you are and who you are is a human."

"Is a simple conversation any excuse for you to give a pep talk, Goldie?” Jason rolled his eyes at him. But Dick didn’t buy his teen’s antics. From where he was standing, he saw right through his tough–kid shield. Right then, the saying "pick your fights" was starting to make truly sense in a spiritual level to Dick.

"Anyway, what's your friend name?" Jason was curious. That was a good sign. Dick had a feeling on his gut that Roy and Jason were going to be really good friends. He couldn't explain why. He had no clues besides the deep feeling that told him that he was right. One day, Jason and Roy were going to be really close and nothing could change his mind. "Harper, Roy Harper or Arsenal."

"Neat! Arsenal, sounds like a badass," Jason smirked.

"Yeah, you’ll like him, you'll see." Dick smiled to himself, proud of his matchmaking. "I'll pick up the stuff we need and I'll meet you outside, okay?"

* * *

**Dick**

  
Jason was quick to meet Dick outside, where he was waiting by the car. Even if Jason acted all though and pretended he didn’t like Dick that much ––maybe he didn’t but Dick hadn’t been exactly welcoming with him at first, so it was on him–– he still listened to Dick and he was good at following instructions and coming with ideas of his own. That was enough for now.

Dick drove them to an abandoned warehouse that Two-Face used to like for hiding the civilians he abducted. According to the reports in the data bat-bank, it had been over two years without him or anyone else using this location for criminal activities. Or at least, Batman hadn't noticed anything yet. Sometimes even Batman forgot that Gotham was a huge city, filled with organised crime and sneaky goons. It wasn't a simple task to keep an eye on all the corners of the city.

"Dick?... Hey, Dick! Dick!" Jason waved his hands in front of his face, "I’m talking to you, Grayson!!"

"Yeah... Sorry... What were you saying?"

"I found the bomb and disarmed it and here’s the kidnapped doll," the way Jason furrowed his eyebrows and held the huge doll with one hand was adorable. Maybe Dick would never be totally okay with someone else wearing the Robin mantle, maybe he shouldn’t because if he hadn’t cared so much for what Robin represented, then he wouldn’t have deserved it to own it. So no, Dick would keep Robin as the mantle he lost in his first emotional divorce ––hoping it was the last–– with Bruce but he had to be honest to himself. He liked Jason and he filled the role better than he had given Jason credit for.

"Good, you did well today. You were in the right state of mind, you didn’t hesitate but you weren’t nearly half as impulsive as you were yesterday. It’s good to be ready but there’s a difference between reacting and taking action. Today, you took action considering all the danger and possible scenarios. Keep it that way." Dick wasn’t as hard as a mentor as Bruce was. He reassured them anytime they did something good and pointed out as gentle as he could what they could improve. As much as he loved Bruce, he didn't approve of his methods. Maybe this was what people called maturity. The moment you can love someone without approving of their actions.

"Yeah, dude, whatever, can I have a snack?"

"Let’s call it a day and go for ice cream," Dick chuckled. Jason’s eyes shined when Dick said ice cream but he kept his nonchalant demeanour. “Sure but you pay.”

Dick lifted his backpack from the floor. "Bruce is paying..."

"My bad, I didn’t know your sugar daddy gave you his credit card."

"He’s not my... you have one of his credit cards too!"

"Yeah... But he’s my dad and you keep saying he’s your... Friend? Mentor? Boss?"

"Just hurry up, okay?" was easier to say than "my long-time partner who I fell in love with before I was even legal." Likewise, Dick didn’t want to be the one who told Jason that Bruce and he were together. And considering how bad was Bruce at breaking news, Dick hoped that Jason found out by using his detective skills.

* * *

**  
Wayne Manor. June 04, 03:00 EST**

**Bruce**

After coming back from aptrol and writing last night report, Bruce went to lay in bed and put ice on his face. He couldn't afford another meeting with another foolish executive asking him why did he have a bruise on his face. Talking of the devil, his phone was ringing with what possibily was another reminder to remember his next meeting.

"Dick, answer the call and tell them that I'm sleeping but I will be at the meeting tomorrow."

From his peripherical vision, he saw Dick picking up the phone but he didn't answer. "It’s Cat." Dick said fast and low, so Bruce didn’t get the meaning of his words. Or maybe he didn’t want to understand because there was only one Cat who could be calling him on a Friday at 3 in the morning.

"Your Cat," Dick spoke again and brought the phone over Bruce, who tried to take it from his hands, but Dick pushed the phone back as Bruce’s fingers touched it.

"Dick," Bruce warned looking into his eyes but Dick smiled and looked at him back with mischievous eyes. "What? Just take it." And Bruce tried one more time but Dick hid the phone behind his back. "It’s not funny, Dick, give me my phone."

"You want it?" Dick gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Catch me and get it," and just like that he was out of his sight. Bruce ran behind him, following him from the bedroom through the corridors. Dick took the left side, thankfully, as Alfred and Jason slept on the right-wing.

After around ten minutes of chasing, Dick realized that Bruce was going to catch him, so he locked himself in one of the bedrooms. Bruce snorted, it was easy to break into the place and Dick was waiting for him there in the bed, suggestively sitting with his legs parted and his shirt unbuttoned. The phone rested on his chest, "sure you want to answer?" He licked his lips and tilted his head, showing off the soft neck Bruce enjoyed marking with his teeth.

_Two can play this game_ , Bruce thought. He crawled to Dick, massaging his legs with his expert hands on his way to Dick’s crotch, which Bruce neglected, getting a gasp from Dick. "Eager and horny, all the time, aren’t you?" Dick smiled, "just for you," and threw his head back in the pillows to enjoy the soft touch of his lover.

"You know? You should be nice and go down on me," Dick said.

Bruce snorted, Dick looked relaxed and comforting. Eating him out sounded good, better than anything else actually, but there was a good reason to answer this call. He patted Dick’s hips with one hand and took the phone with his free hand.

"What?" Dick jumped to recover the phone but it was too late. Bruce had jumped faster and he was on his way to the door. "Where are you going? You can’t leave me hard like this."

"Use your hands, honey," Bruce smirked with the sweet taste of revenge on his lips.

Once he closed the door behind him, he heard that not so subtle words that left Dick’s mouth. "Well, fuck her! No, don’t fuck her, just..."

Bruce looked longingly to the door. He wanted to come back and reassured him that there was no one else, but he didn’t have the time. Moreover, he didn't want to feed Dick's hypocrisy. Dick would get jealous whenever an ex-girlfriend called Bruce but when one of Dick's ex-partners looked for him, Dick would behave as if it nothing out of normal was happening. He didn’t even seem to notice ––or pretended he didn’t–– that Bruce would get suspicious.

So instead, he walked away from that room, where Dick couldn't spy on his call and called Selina back.

"Bat?"

"Selina."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] Yeah, I know the story building is slow but I don’t want to rush it, I have too many brudick feelings 🙈😭


	10. Got Cereal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] If you made it this far, thank you for reading this story.
> 
> [x] English is my second language, so grocery store/supermarket vocabulary may be not that good.

**Gotham. June 05, 10:30 EST**

**Dick**

"What happened to the coffee? Why there is no coffee?" Dick complained, staring at the empty coffee pot.

"Can't figure it out for yourself, bro?" Jason rolled his eyes at him with the majesty only a teenager can summon at early morning hours.

"I need my coffee, I can't function without --"

"For God's sake, just make more coffee!" Jason waved his hands on the air. 

"I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to the coffee pot," Dick defended his talking-to-myself-and-to-the-coffee-pot talk. 

"I would be pleased if both of you, Masters, may behave according to your current age," Alfred scolded them from the threshold of the kitchen door. "Master Dick, breakfast was served one hour ago, coffee included."

"I understand, Alfie," Dick shrugged his shoulders. "I will make more coffee." 

"What were you and Bruce so late for breakfast, anyway?" Jason squinted his eyes, showing his suspicions. Though Dick was sure he suspected something unrelated to steamy sex, Jason probably assumed that they were keeping him out of a big case. Typical Robin thinking.

"Stuff -- a case," Dick kept his facial expression out of Jason's view range. Mornings weren't made for lying about who took you to bed last night and what you did this morning with the same person. No, Dick wasn't going to add anything else as an explanation.

* * *

**Grocery store.**

"Don’t you want to pick up something?" Bruce set his eyes on him and his gaze was normal –– there was nothing revealing on the way he was looking at Dick –– however, Dick had the impression that they were just about to commit a crime. All in perfect secrecy. And again, their gazes met and no, for strangers’ gazes it was just a platonic gaze but Dick knew what was hidden behind Bruce’s blue eyes. There was nothing platonic there.

"Cereal?" Bruce asked and Dick shrugged his shoulders in response. "Chips?"

"You really take me for a glutton, don’t you?" Dick chuckled and grasped the pushing bar of the shopping cart, next to Bruce’s hand. "And yes, you are right, I eat a lot –– or I don’t? I don’t think so... my meals are regular size, I just like snacking a lot to keep my energy high. Y’know, a pro acrobat gotta eat."

Dick slid his hand closer to Bruce’s to touch it with his small finger. It was a light touch and it was all it needed to be in front of others, ghostly, unseen, platonic. Dick waited for Bruce to recoiled himself from his touch but he didn’t deny him. Instead, his hand covered his, reassuring him with a firm touch. Dick glimpsed at Bruce’s eyes and when he broke the eye contact, Bruce’s hand was gone again. 

"You should go and find those snacks you want."

"Oh no –– you are all the snack that I need." Dick smiled infatuated, "but I think you are a whole meal plus dessert, the good type of dessert," Dick dared to touch Bruce’s hand again and entwined their fingers together. And looked into Bruce’s eyes, "dark, sour and perfect."

The way Bruce looked into his eyes was the combusted fire Dick liked, consuming and overbearing. They were two steps separated from each other –– hiding their love as two Victorian queer lovers –– and even if they weren't touching each other at all, Dick swore he felt Bruce touch his skin and wrapped him in a warm embrace, pouring all the love and safety Dick craved.

"Hey, I found the maple –– " Jason came from behind as Bruce moved swiftly one step away from Dick and one closer to Jason. Though Dick was a good performer for missions, he wasn’t good at acting this close distance. The blush on his face showed and turned his face to the other side, announcing "I’ll go for some stuff."

Dick would like to say he walked with grace to the other side but he didn’t. 

"...what’s wrong with him?" Dick heard Jason asked, but he didn’t turn to answer "nothing, I just have these strong feelings for Bruce and every time we are close I can’t help myself but hug him or kiss him, you know, just two dudes in love." Dick pictured on his mind how amusing it would be to see Bruce’s drained face of colour and Jason’s smirk but no, he wasn’t going to push, he wasn’t supposed to push.

Lost on his train of thoughts, Dick tripped into someone strong, he could tell as the man was solid and his arms muscles tightened when Dick took one of his arms to keep his balance. "Shit, sorry, my bad, I didn’t see you."

And damn, he didn’t see him at first but now he was, indeed, pretty much looking at him. He was taller than Dick, he had pale skin, blond hair and light blue eyes with a slight yellowish colour circling his iris that looked unnatural but good. Dick assumed it was caused by an illness, so he wouldn’t ask. Not that he was allowed to ask since this was the first time meeting this stranger man.

"Grayson," Dick said offering his hand. "My name is Dick Grayson and I’m usually not this clumsy, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive a distracted folk."

It could be that the smile on Dick’s face worked or maybe his apology was good enough for the uptight man. 

"Jean..." Dick saw the man hesitating, if he weren’t a Dick detective, he wouldn’t have known that this man was lying but he was, and once you learnt to see the world through the eyes of a crime-fighter detective, you can’t never unseen the true colours of people. 

Nonetheless, there was something about this hunky man that seemed dangerous, yet nice about him. Maybe it was the attraction talking, or Dick was right. 

"It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me your name." Dick gave him a reassuring smile. Maybe the stranger didn’t feel comfortable giving his name to other strangers and that was fine. "Are you here for cereal too?" Dick waved to the long hall stocked of cereal boxes. The stranger looked surprised with wide eyes as if he couldn't tell how he ended up here. Dick laughed respectfully on his mind because he didn’t want to freak him out and also, he understood the mental lapses in which you forgot how you got somewhere else.

"I like this one," Dick pointed out to the Lucky Charms box, "but I know I gotta choose a healthier one too, you know, for my abs," this time Dick laughed openly. And he kept talking as the stranger stood by his side, clearly interested in what he was saying but shy enough to not say a word. "I think my boyfriend thinks I eat too much cereal but I don’t, actually I add chopped fruits in the bowl, almond milk and just a handful of cereal, it’s not that much –– sorry, am I boring you?"

"Would you..." the stranger had pleading eyes on his stone face. Dick had the impression that his whole face lacked plasticity. It was as if _Jean_ couldn’t articulate facial expressions. "Help me pick one?"

Dick didn’t know this man and he could bet he was a few years older than him. All Dick knew is that the man _supposedly-named-Jean_ seemed lost and he reminded him of something he couldn’t remember. The sense of familiarity wasn’t normal; what he was feeling wasn’t infatuation but it was something close to what he felt for the younger members in the Titans.

 _'Protection_ ,' he thought. He wanted to protect this man.

"Sure, let’s put to use all the skills I’ve gained through the years catering cereals. What taste do you prefer? Chocolate? Vanilla? Honey?"

 _Jean_ stared at the floor thinking. ' _Anxiety over choosing something simple... abuse victim, uh?'_ Dick waited in silence, trying not to push this man’s boundaries. He seemed easy to trigger. 

"I like... honey," Jean seemed taken aback with his own realization. Dick didn't comment on it, as he was merely trying to help _Jean_ and embarrassing him wasn't going to be helpful at all.

"Well, you seem like a guy who trains too, so... try this one?" Dick took one box of Honey Cheerios and gave it to him. It really was a small gesture, nothing that Dick wouldn’t do for any other stranger, however, _Jean_ appeared amazed by Dick’s cereal skills and kindness.

"Thank you, Gray...son."

"It’s alright, Jean." How sad that this grownup, bulky guy didn’t know kindness at all. "I... gotta go, take care of yourself, Jean."

* * *

Dick wandered through the halls, looking for something he was willing to eat. Lately, his body been acting weird. He didn’t feel as hungry as usual but somehow he remained active and full of energy. It wasn't ideal but it was efficient.

He stopped at the hummus and picked some chips. Hummus with chips, that was a snack he would eat. 

"There you are," Bruce put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his hair swiftly.

"Careful, Bruce, you don’t want anyone to think that we aren’t just two dudes, living together in a platonic marriage." It wasn’t a joke. The secrecy hurt Dick’s pride. Besides, it was Bruce's idea to keep it private, so at least, he could hear Dick complain.

"I guess, I deserve that," Bruce sighed. Dick glimpsed at him –– he knew better than doing that –– for looking at Bruce’s sad eyes was enough for Dick to forget why he was upset in the first place.

Torn between yelling at Bruce’s or kissing him out of spite, Dick decided that the wisest choice was to let it go. He didn’t want the annoying attention from paparazzi’s anyway and he didn’t have the patience to do interviews for gossipers reporters asking how they got together, how long had they been a couple and if they were planing the wedding already. Actually, dating the most wanted bachelor of Gotham was a deal with the devil. No more privacy, no more reading the news without seeing your name written on the gossip columns.

"Care to help me?" Dick half-smiled as a truce.

"Of course," Bruce released him from half of the groceries and walked by his side in silence.

As long as Bruce didn't emanate a defeated aura next to him, Dick could take the silence. It wasn't one of those occasions, so Dick kept talking. "Where is Jason?"

"He is waiting in the car. It took you too long to choose your stuff that I paid the other groceries and he left to read."

"It didn’t take me that much," Dick pouted defensively.

"Dick, it took you half of an hour," Bruce put the groceries on the belt and waited for the employee to tell him how much was it. 

"That long? Wow! I must have lost track of time," Dick leaned his head to rest on Bruce's shoulders and sighed in relief when Bruce didn't reject him for he was tired and he needed a nap. In the meantime, he would take Bruce's shoulder as his source of support. "I help a guy to choose his cereal, he seemed kind of lost -- the type of forlorn look you get when you are under heavy medication."

"Who was this guy?" Bruce turned to look at him, interested or suspicious, maybe both.

"I don’t know, he said his name was _Jean_ but I think he was lying..." Dick said as he followed Bruce to the exit door, carrying two bags.

"And you are sure he was just a regular customer and not someone looking for N?" The Bat who lived inside Bruce's mind didn't sleep, even if Bruce put the cowl down.

Dick gave some thought to his answer. He didn’t doubt _Jean_ was in some type of dirty business but a lot in people Gotham did questionable jobs for a living as they lacked professional credentials or the possibilities to get a good salary on a regular job... "I believe he was just a troubled man with a sad past, angsty present and who knows if he will have a future? He might die tomorrow."

 _'Just my type,'_ Dick thought bitterly.

"Interesting," Bruce said as he pushed the button to open the trunk of the fancy Mercedes Benz --designed and made for _Brucie_ Wayne -- that he showed off in Gotham.

"Why? Are you jealous, B? Because you should be, he was tall, blond, hunky and grumpy," Dick chuckled. Bruce said nothing but he slapped Dick's ass.

Dick was going to say something -- a pun, obviously -- but he was interrupted by Jason, who sneaked his head out of the car window. "Hey, are we ready to go? I’m fucking bored!"

"Language, Jason!" Bruce snarled.

"Finally," Dick whispered to stay out of the conversation. In spite of the ridiculous the number of things Jason got away with, Dick wasn't in the mood of helping Bruce to parent the kid.

* * *

Back in the Manor, Dick made black tea and chilled out in Bruce’s studio. The afternoon had soothing weather, sunny and windy, which was a rarity in the usual cloudy and dry Gotham. It was inviting for Dick to sprawl in the couch and a read book. 

The hours passed fast and as the Sun disappeared in the skyline, Bruce returned from work and joined him in the studio. He greeted Dick with a nod of his head and sat by his side. Wayne Enterprises' work didn't cease its activity. As usual, it claimed Bruce’s attention all day, as he wasn’t busy dealing with Batman's work.   
Though Batman was something more familiar to Dick than Bruce’s paperwork would ever be. Bruce continued talking on the phone as Dick snuggled on his chest, reading his book.

In the blink of a moment, sometime between chapter 36 and chapter 37, Dick must have fallen asleep, as the next time he was awake, he felt the touch of Bruce’s hand, squeezing his shoulder lightly. 

The book fell from Dick’s hand but Bruce caught it. "What?" Dick said sleepy, "what’s happening?"

"I need the room," Bruce kissed his cheek and returned to him the book. 

Dick stood up, still disoriented, but he hurried up to leave. He almost didn’t notice Alfred standing next to Bruce, with his hands on his back and a solemn face that didn’t give away any reason for his presence. 

"Hi, Alfie!" It clicked in his sleepy brain. Bruce needed the room to talk to Alfred. Both of them... alone. It was nothing weird in their dynamic, however, his gut told him that they were going to talk about him, and nothing good was going to come up from that conversation. Of course, that could be his self-doubt talking or he could be right... he didn’t want to be right.

"Master Dick, dinner is served, you may join Master Jason."

"Sure, thanks," Dick looked between them, reading the tension. Alfred was stoic, Bruce was uncomfortable. It was a rare mix, but Dick left the room before he got more details, and he didn’t even stay to spy on the conversation. He was kind of sure he would regret this decision later. But at this point, all he wanted was some peace and eat dinner. 

The plan didn’t work that well. Jason entertained him through dinner while he was speaking, but conversations were supposed to go both ways and Dick didn’t couldn’t focus sufficiently enough to come up with a good answer for the things Jason was asking. 

"Hey, you wanna get ready for patrol? Together?" Jason offered with a friendly smile that surprised Dick, but he wasn't going to take for granted a version of Jason in good humour.

"Sure! Give me fifteen minutes and I'll meet you in the Batcave," Dick made his way to his bedroom to pick up his stuff. But something inside him told him that he needed to talk to someone or he would explode very soon. Dick wasn't a pleasant person when he got upset and shot out to the people he loved. There was no denial of how good he was when he wanted to hurt with his words. 

He needed to talk to the right person, the one who knew both Bruce and Dick well. Clark would know what to do, and most important, he would talk Dick down to leave his doubts behind.

_Message: Hey Clark! :) it’s me, Dick... I’m in Gotham and it’s been a while since the last time I saw you... let me know when you can fly to Gotham? Coffee is on me ;)_

* * *

"You haven’t told him, have you?"

"Alfred," it was a plea for Alfred to stop his interrogation, one plea that Alfred didn’t mind to ignore. 

"You must tell him."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] Yeah, the person Dick met was Jean-Paul Valley (Azrael). 
> 
> [x] Thank you for your comments, kudos, and subscriptions. They keep motivated :)


	11. Some Run Out of Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *uploads a chapter a month later* I'm back!

**Gotham. June 06, before sunrise.**

As the night hours were about to end, the Talons of the Court waited until the last minute to come back to the side of their respective Masters. _N_ obody likes to work for the Court, they said but also they knew that nobody had an option. The Court didn't ask for permission or a Talon's opinion at all. What they thought it was meant to be, that was what they would make happen. If your name was on their list, there would be little to do to stop them. Resistance met tragedy, and with tragedy came a level of trauma that caused one's self-undoing. 

"It's cold," said the Talon who had become like the brother she never had, "do you think they will let me bring a sweater next time?" She knew he was joking, trying to light up the mood after the unforgivable crime they had just committed in the name of their Masters.

"I think they will tell you to go and fuck yourself," she said without looking back to face him. It seemed time had failed to make the kidnappings easier on her, it was too difficult to face anyone's gaze after seeing the face of innocent children begging you to let them go. Hopelessly, she still looked into their eyes in a silent act that begged for forgiveness. Though they could never meet her guilty eyes behind the mask that covered her face, and even if they could, she was sure they wouldn't ever forgive her. And if you asked her opinion on the matter, she would say they were right for there was no redemption for a cursed soul like hers.  


"If you are done brooding for the night, we have a place to be, Helena," the man dared to say her name as if they were allowed to remember them. Careless of who was listening as he was with his touch, he reached for her arm as a way to ask for her attention. Don't touch each other, only your Master have such permission to do as they want, another stupid rule that enraged her to her core.  


"Shut up! Here it's not safe to use my name, they may listen and if they do..." she sighed heavily, already exhausted of whatever punishment they might inflict on her. "Let's go, he must be on his way." 

He followed her all the way to the abandoned house she had chosen as their secret headquarters, he followed her as he did before when they both worked in her father's mob business. She permitted herself a moment of shy joy and smiled under the protection of her white Owl mask.

Breaking into the safe house by the window, she gave him a sign that confirmed their partner was already there and that it was safe to take off their masks.

* * *

Around half of an hour, it took Jean to explain them all the information he had gathered on Gray Son, which it wasn't that much taking into account how impaired Jean's brain was due to a punishment his Master considered _necessary_. Regardless of what his Master had said, even the other Masters had thought it was excessive as Jean had done nothing wrong but spare the life of an innocent passer-by who didn't see what the Talon had done.

Helena was a patient person, she could wait. On the other hand, her counterpart wasn't that gifted in the art of patience. "He is nice? You talked to him and all you found out was that he is a nice person? That's useless, Jean!" He punched the wall as Helena and Jean stared at his dramatic ways. "We knew he was nice, Jean, that's obvious. Look at his stupid perfect face and what the hell is his problem with his shiny smile and deer eyes? He's ridiculous and probably useless, they only want his himbo ass because he's a Grayson." 

"Somebody has a man-crush," Helena teased.

"I do not have a crush on the circus freak, Helena and don't distract me from yelling at Jean for wasting our time," he growled. Helena looked unimpressed as it was a common reaction for his short-temper but for Jean, who had almost all his memories wiped last week, it was scary as the Masters' wrath.

"Hey, easy, it's alright, he's one of us, he won't hurt you," she patted Jean's back and then turned to scold Tiger. "Take it easy, Ti! Have you forgotten that the Masters fried his brain? You wouldn't be as sharp as you are after electroshock therapy."

Tiger sighed and stared back at both of them with a less murderous gaze. "I understand," he shrugged his shoulders, "but this is a highly important mission, we can't fail, it may be our last opportunity to be free again. The Bat _knows_ things, he sent the woman cat and the alien to inspect, and he is the head of the Justice League. All I'm saying is that once we get Gray Son, the Bat will go crazy and haunt the Court to get his twink back, who knows? He might even break his code and murder all the Owls."

"I know..." Helena agreed with a tired voice as she sat on the old couch, courtesy of the last folks who lived there. She had hoped that Tiger would calm down after listening to Jean, but even she admitted that the operation had been pointless.

"Let me talk to him," Tiger said, standing in front of her with a hand on his hip.

"It's dangerous, Tiger, they already choose me--Talon-Five--to keep an eye on him." She waved her hands as if asking him to drop his attitude. However, Tiger was too stubborn for his own good, he wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted. "And how is that going, Helena?"

"You... are too harsh..." Jean added as he sat next to Helena. He couldn't exactly remember why he trusted this grumpy man, he seemed to be too hard on other people but for a reason, he didn't felt hate or concern regarding where his loyalty laid.

"You like it or not, Kathryn chose me, not you and if she notices that you are helping me to spy on Gray Son, she will make sure we don't see the light for the rest of the year, do you want that?" Helena said in a warning tone that unfortunately, it revealed that she was certain what kind of punishment awaited for them if they made a mistake.

"Fine," Tiger crossed his arms, "but at least, tell us what have you found."

"It's more difficult than what I was expecting," she chose careful her next words as her findings weren't reassuring at all. "Everything seems fine with the chip the Court installed on his brain. It all comes to probability, there is still a chance his brain rejects the chip but if it doesn't, he will be as obedient as us when we are on the _command mode_... I think the Bat is trying to protect him by keeping him busy training the new Robin. He barely leaves the Manor and if he does, he's never alone. I'm not worried about him, I'm worried for Catwoman, she's working with him... and I need her to stop, she's getting in my way to murder people in the underground business."

"So you are keeping an eye on her, instead of keeping track of him," Tiger understood exactly what she didn't want him to.

"And I will until reason comes to her mind again. Foolish Cat, she chose the wrong time to redeem herself." Helena had come to this conclusion on her own, knowing well that she was neglecting what the Court had asked her to do. The issue was that whatever she chose to do, all options seemed destined to fail. She could spy on Gray Son or keep on protecting Selina from her downfall as she tried to do the right thing. Thinking about it again, she might have been to hasty declining Tiger's help. She had ignored in purpose the many risks she was taking but if Tiger was willing to help, may the odds be on their side for she was going to need his assistance. "Actually, Tiger, you may be onto something... having a pair of fresh eyes in this mission might be helpful..."

"I'm in, ready to start on the evening," Tiger spoke fast and Helena smiled, she missed being his boss, the one who ordered him what to do. They had spent good times until they betrayed her father, resulting in both of them being sold to the Court as penance.

"Be extra careful, the Court is watching but so is the Bat," Helena said and Tiger nodded in silent agreement.

"It's getting late, we should leave..." Jean warned them.

"Right, let's split," Helena put her mask on, "and this never happened."

"This never happened," the men repeated after her.

* * *

**Gotham. June 08, an hour before midnight.**

It was Dick's second week back in Gotham but it felt as if he hadn't ever left. He fell right into the same--or rather similar--place in which he was previous his last dramatic departure. _"Screw you, Bruce, you don't get to treat me as if I were a child,_ " Dick had said and he remembered other less nice things he said and the exaggerated way in which he closed the door of Bruce's studio. It was in the past but Dick couldn't help himself but be hyperaware of Bruce's behaviour. Sneaky as usual, Bruce kept secrets from him. Bruce's silent screamed too loud all the things he was keeping to himself. There were moments in which Dick wanted to make him confess but nothing good came from forcing Bruce Wayne to do something. And to be honest, Dick didn't want it to be that way, he would rather wait for Bruce to talk.

So that was what he was doing, waiting for Bruce to talk to him and it wasn't easy at all. Sleeping with someone who was obviously hiding something from you was complicated. Maybe it was karma as Dick had been the one keeping secrets in his previous relationships. Even to Barbara, he lied effortlessly. ' _What a jerk'_ , he thought. Yes, he had been an arrogant jerk who didn't take into consideration her feelings when she found out his lies and sincerely, he wanted to scream at himself and punch his own face as he couldn't do anything about Bruce, but at least, he could unload on himself his distress. It was another one of his not-so-healthy coping mechanisms but Dick was sure that becoming a vigilante after his parents were murdered was another not-so-healthy coping mechanism.

"Let it go," Dick exhaled soundly and then jumped to the roof of the warehouse they were about to dismantle. Tonight it was only Robin and him, Bruce--Batman--had him assigned to execute the operation with Batgirl and Robin. Just a few hours ago, Barbara changed her plans and chose to go to Starlight and assist the Arrows with a mission. Dick had no reason to be mad, Barbara moved on and she was closer to Dinah now. It was fine, the only problem was that he and Jason... well, they weren't remotely synchronized. Training Jason wasn't helping either as it wasn't a matter of technique, rather it was simply that they approached criminals differently.

"You are so Batman," Dick said after they jumped into the warehouse and fought a bunch of thugs. Jason chuckled as if it had been a compliment but it wasn't. Robin wasn't supposed to be that violent, he wasn't supposed to scare criminals, he wasn't supposed--right, he wasn't Robin anymore, it was Jason's mantle. He knew it came as a bitter thing to say but Dick couldn't stop himself from saying that "it wasn't a compliment."

Jason--Robin--hit harder the already unconscious man lying on the floor to make his point clear, "do I look like I care?"

"Since I will be the one writing the report, yes, I advice you to care for my opinion, Little Wing," Dick patted Robin's shoulder with one of his escrima sticks.

Jason pouted but Robin ignored him, just as he used to do when he was Robin. "Mine is the left side, right?" And that was when it hit Dick, Jason was Robin and he was Batman, trying to mould Robin into his expectations and judging him, instead of supporting him.

"Go ahead," Dick nodded and saw Jason half-running, half-jumping his way to the next room. Enthusiastic and fearless, the spirit of the kid didn't surrender even when his cape was tainted on blood. His past Robin-self didn't understand but Batman hadn't understood him either. He guessed it was the curse of all mentors, trying your best to help your students but falling short when it came to unreachable past trauma and its ever presenting effects.

The sound of shooting put him back on the present time, he was in a warehouse, supposedly fighting a gang of drug-traffickers and he had zoned out. ' _Nope, bad, this is bad,'_ Dick thought as he hurried to the right side with his bat-instincts turned on. The rest was a typical fighting dance, he said a catching phrase that distracted the enemy and then let his body dealt with everything. It was as if his body had a mind of his own, disconnecting his brain of his overbearing thoughts and yet, he was enough focused to see them coming from behind and predict their moves.

It was easy, too easy, almost all the thugs were down but apparently, Nightwing couldn't have a simple night. Dick felt all his blood leave his body when he saw Robin jumping in front of a gun-- _Jason jumped in front of a gun, a bullet, a gun_ , Dick's brain barely processed it--and of course, that single action made him lose all the attention he had on the man he was fighting. Did he take three hits that otherwise he would have blocked? Sure, but did it matter? Not really, all it mattered was to reach for Jason and block him from any possible danger. It was too quick, it wasn't until Dick had Robin around the strong embrace of his arms that he thought that it was a bad idea to let himself on the open.

"Shit," he cursed as a bullet brushed his arm, "that's it? you just lost your chance," it was the last thing the thug heard before getting acquainted with Nightwing's escrima sticks.

"Thanks," Jason said out of breath. Dick saw the grin on the kid's face and he didn't know where to start, hugging sounded like a good idea but scolding him could be satisfying too. Spending patrol nights alone with Robin made him sympathize--very reluctantly--with the one who had been his Batman, who wasn't the same Batman that Jason had.

"It's alright, you are okay, that's what matters," Dick let it go. Blamed it on the fact that Batman softened his training with his second Robin or on the fact that Dick didn't want to become Batman on his worse days.

It took them fifteen minutes to check for evidence in the warehouse, then Dick counted thirty minutes to get to the Manor. And he had to admit that sitting next to Jason, listening to him breath-- _he's alive, he's alive, Dick, breath, he's alive--_ it was comforting.

"You are going to tell him, aren't you?" Jason asked just right when Dick parked the car inside the Batcave. As Dick looked around, he realized that Batman hadn't come back from whatever he was doing. He didn't tell Dick where he was going but he didn't have to. Dick appreciated Bruce talking to him, trusting him with details of the missions he did for the Justice League but Batman was harder to interrogate. 

"I can't promise I won't tell him, I don't want to tell Batman but it might be good for you if Bruce knows."

Jason looked at him as if Dick were insane, "this may come as a surprise to you, bro, but they are the _same_ person," Jason said with the right amount of venom on his tone for Dick to snap but it was hard to get angry at the kid who almost got shot tonight.

"They are not--I mean, they are but they don't react--I have more leverage with Bruce than what I do with Batman," Dick looked the other way to hide his smile. It was getting late, he was physically exhausted and his mind had a hard time remembering what he had with Bruce was a secret. He might as well stop trying to have a heart-to-heart talk with Jason unless he wanted to share his feelings. Something he wouldn't do as he had promised to Bruce he would wait, as much as he could wait anyway.

"Just answer this question: why were you so violent tonight? It looked... personal," Dick's word went to waste as Jason shrugged his arms and left to take a shower without saying a word, which in itself it was a clear "yes, it was personal."

* * *

Bruce truly hated missions in which he had to use his Brucie personality to gain access to valuable information. It was a living nightmare, he had had enough pretending to be a playboy on his twenties and thirties. These days, he was closer to his forties and he didn’t need the playboy excuse anymore. If he looked tired or if he didn’t have time to socialize, he used Jason as an excuse to explain his absence. Though, he wasn’t lying at all. Jason, indeed, demanded a lot of attention and Bruce was happy to give it to him.

Perhaps, he had been too hopeful thinking that he could settle down with Dick and bury _Brucie_ for eternity. Besides, it was ridiculous that he had to use his _Brucie_ disguise to get closer to the Court of the Owls. Despite that Batman had mapped all Gotham, there were some places that Batman couldn’t reach, but a few of those places had no trouble welcoming _Brucie Wayne_.

The music was high and annoying, though it was the typical classical music of charity events. It must have been his bad mood what it caused him his annoyance. "Is everything alright, Bruce?" His date asked and Bruce thought that his name had never sounded so wrong in anyone’s lips. "Excuse me for a moment," he faked a charming smile and walked to the bathroom, through the multitude of sociliatés that gathered on the Gatsby-like parties Powers’ family threw. 

Though he was an expert putting on a show, lying to everyone’s face, this party wasn’t coming easily to him. Bruce didn’t want to admit it but it was the guilt what was causing him trouble. He wanted to tell him, Dick had a right to know but how was he going to tell him––the most kind and noble person he knew––that he was born to be an assassin under a secret organization’s orders? How was he supposed to tell him that his parents knew but they never got to tell him that he was expected to become the Court’s pawn? How was Bruce supposed to confront him with the truth if he didn’t even know if Dick’s parents were trying to save him from such a terrible fate? What if they weren’t? What if they didn’t care? The mere thought of his precious boy being taken away by those bastards made his blood boiled in rising fury.

To calm himself, Bruce splashed cold water on his face and massaged it, regulating his breathing to gain some self-control. He would not tell Clark but he was right, Bruce was emotionally compromised by how close he was to Dick. And if he wanted to succeed, he needed to find a way to put some distance between them, without making Dick think that he doesn’t want--love--him. It was something he refused to say either, though he assumed Dick already knew, that Bruce loved him, too much, deeply. 

One last look in the mirror and Bruce fixed his tie. "It’s for him," which was the most truthful thing Bruce had said during all the night. All the trouble he went to get to clear his night for this party and to get a date with someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions. It was all for him for that was the thing both Bruce and Batman had in common, they would do anything to keep Dick Grayson safe. 

Walking with the grace and confidence of his playboy personality, Bruce came back to his sit and charmed his date and the investors sitting on the table with them. He waited until he saw the waitresses served the third round of booze to execute his plan. It was a simple one, the Court wouldn’t foresee Batman being this silly. Bruce invited his date to go upstairs alone, just the two of them and of course, she said yes without hesitation. He took her by the arm, pretending to be tipsy as they walked together to find a private room.

No one was following them... yet. They found a clear room in the second floor, she looked excited but he didn’t have the energy to lie, so he kissed her as a distraction, as his left hand looked for a needle on his pocket that would put her to sleep. He almost felt sorry for her, but at least, he was using one of Zatanna’s potions, they were friendly on the body, causing no side effects.   
  
After making sure she laid as comfortable as possible on the bed, Bruce continued with the mission, careful of roaming without leaving a trace. The map he was looking for was hiding in the fifth floor, according to what Selina had heard from Falcone.

The Talons would be watching, but as far as he knew, they were surprisingly vulnerable to low temperatures. Bruce thought it was rather irresponsible for the Court to have Talons in Gotham––cold and cloudy even in Summer––and leave them exposed to such weakness. He wouldn’t file a complaint, this was a benefit for him but it was thoughtless. It showed how little they cared for their Talons, how little they would care for Richard if they ever got him on their side. 

Nonetheless, everything was going well, which only made Bruce worried even more. The moment he had arrived at the party, he had alerted Clark and Diana of his whereabouts, in case he needed backup. It was an unusual request for Batman to ask, especially when he was in Gotham territory but if an army of Talons attacked him right there, he would need all the help he could get. 

Bruce hacked the security system of the fifth floor––which turned out to be a huge library––and then changed the temperature of the room to 14F. It wasn’t low enough to stop a Talon but it would slow them down sufficiently for Bruce to have an advantage.

Bruce was working against the clock, he had fifteen minutes at max to find what he was looking for. He was Batman and Batman had his tricks to predict where an organization like the Court would hide a map. All sociopaths, organized or not, liked to believe they were special and had a high level of unpredictable genius. Batman though, they thought they were pathetic and lacked the intelligence to hide evidence from him. And yes, the Court had proved their efficiency but Batman had been created to be the best and Bruce needed to be that way, he couldn’t fail, he couldn’t––he couldn’t fail Dick. 

The library was extensive and there many options but his fifth-bat-sense put him under a chandelier. Golden, sparkling in the darkness as Dick did, "just like him." It was ironic and probably not a coincidence, that it resembled Dick. "He’s a natural, isn’t he?" The Court and Bruce could agree on that. He was golden and a ray of light, even in the darkest nights, and he was worth all the trouble that the Court and he had gone for him.

Only five minutes left. Bruce used his tech to pull down the chandelier and searched for anything that it was out of place, something incrusted or hidden. Two minutes left. Bruce’s fingers felt the effect of the low temperature as he extracted a small, black book with a golden owl on the front, made of leather and pearl-coloured sheets. 

One minute left, Bruce collocated the chandelier back to its place and ran fast to the main door of the floor. He turned off his tech and went back to find his date. On his way, he remained nonchalant upon the hidden presence of dark shadows that followed his every step. _’Talons,’_ who didn’t attack him. _‘If they don’t make a move... did they want me to get this book? And if they did, why?’_ Bruce had a war about to start inside his mind, but it had to wait until he returned to the Batcave.   
  


...

"Sir, are we waiting for someone else?" Alfred asked, standing by the limousine with his hands behind his back. 

The butler already knew the answer but he appeared to be in the mood of torturing Bruce. Two could play the game. "For my date, Alfred, how a gentleman like me would come to such an exclusive party and leave his date behind?"

Alfred wasn’t amused by his mockery. "How thoughtful of you, Sir. Enchanting the eyes of the fake ones and ignoring the heart of the noble ones."

Bruce glared at Alfred, who stared back at him unaffected by the Batman glare. 

The ride back home, including the stop to leave his date on her house, wasn’t less uncomfortable. Alfred put him through his judgement silence, which cut Bruce like a knife. 

"It was necessary, Alfred," Bruce felt like a child, scolded by his parents and coming with a cheap excuse to get himself out of trouble. 

"I may not understand––fully approved––of what you and Master Richard share," Alfred halted for a moment, perhaps giving Bruce time to process his words. Until then Alfred had kept his distance with _them_. Often pretending to ignore Bruce’s motive for his getaways and extra days of stays in hotels after missions out of Gotham. And ever since Dick returned to the Manor, Alfred had kept his distance, merely pointing out What he considered mistakes such as keeping secrets and sneaking on fakes dates like tonight. "But I’m certain that Master Richard deserves the utmost respect and treatment."

"Alfred, I––" Bruce tried to intervene but Alfred stopped the car, _‘shit, he’s serious.’_

"Listen to me, you fool, Master Richard is not like you, he wears his heart on his sleeve and he commits to others in heart and soul. What is on display, it is what he is. And I may accept the _nature_ of your relationship, but I will not tolerate the mistreatment. Next time, Master Bruce, you may drive your fakes dates on your own. Feel obligated to not call me unless Master Richard is aware of what’s happening."

"I didn’t––" Lie to him? Technically he didn’t, he omitted details from a mission, which fell under the Justice League category and as he wasn’t a member, Dick didn’t have to know. Sleep with her? Neither and he wasn’t planning on doing it. 

"Master Bruce, save your excuses for the blind men," Alfred continue driving, hopefully, he wouldn’t shoot Bruce in Dick’s name... yet. 

"I did not sleep with her and he knows that sometimes mission require special tactics to get information," 

"Careful, Master Bruce. The wicked lies but the fool believes their own lies," Alfred had no reservations.

To save what was left of his dignity, Bruce didn’t reply. Alfred was a wise guide, but Bruce wasn't a good listener.

"And one more thing, Master Bruce," Alfred said as he opened the door for him, "stop using Master Jason as an excuse, the lad would not mind seeing you both happy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos and subscriptions!!


	12. He Comes With Knives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [x] Mentioned underage prostitution and sexual abuse.  
> [x] Mentioned derogatory terms, uncensored.

**Wayne Manor. June 09.**

The alarm woke Dick in a rush. As usual, before he opened his eyes, he looked for Bruce's warm body. However, he found no one by his side. Either Bruce had left early, or he didn't make it to bed.

As he reached for a bottle of water in the nightstand on Bruce’s side of the bed, he found the answer to his question. There was a small note waiting for him. It read: "JLA meeting, pending business. Unknown date of return."

"Would it kill him to write a real sentence?" Dick wondered as he stretched his arms.

Then he took the white paper on his hand, thinking what kind of pending business Bruce was doing. The possibilities were limitless; whatever Bruce's mysterious mission was, he was sure it was more entertaining than his morning stretching routine. Little difference it made that he had been doing this stretching routine for nearly all his life. It was as tedious as it was essential. Dick wouldn't have made it this far on his night job if he weren't so strict on taking care of his body.

To be honest, what he missed was Bruce’s presence, silently watching him as Dick extended his limbs in impressive plasticity that had Bruce asking if Dick was really a human. It worked wonders as a seduction tactic.

On his lucky days, Dick's flexible body aroused Bruce's carnal desires to the point of non-stop. If Bruce had to, he silenced his phone to avoid interruptions. Then Bruce devoured him with kisses as Dick bent in half for Bruce to fuck him. Sex in the morning was messy but good. Bruce was still sleepy to complain about how loud Dick was.

On the blue days, Bruce was too busy to offer a helping hand or a quick fuck. But no day was a lost day, Dick always got what he wanted, which was to make Bruce hard. Called it vanity, it was a boost for his self-esteem.

It wasn’t all bad. He hadn’t had time on his own since his return to the Manor. The honeymoon phase wasn’t over yet, so he hadn’t considered leaving Bruce's bed or hanging out with old friends. Thinking about it, he had promised Clark to call him. Although if Batman was on a Justice League meeting, then Superman had to be there too.

Actually, the silver lining was that if Bruce wasn’t there, he didn’t have to hide his eyes' chronic soreness or the daily painful headaches he had. 

In the meantime, he wasn’t really free. A Robin was waiting for training. Not only it sucked being the grownup, but he was also the grownup mentoring and therefore, saying no to all the things he used to do for fun. And if he allowed the Titans to do some irresponsible tricks from time to time, no one had to know. He would take those memories as secrets to the grave.

Nonetheless, Jason was a different case. If he permitted Robin to do something stupid—and if he joined along the way—Batman would find out, he surely would. And Dick. As well as the criminals in Gotham had witnessed Batman’s fury, which was something to dread.

"What I wouldn’t give to be a teenager again," Dick thought he had murmured—maybe he did—but even in his age, Alfred had sharp ears.

"I beg to differ, Master Richard, age has suit you well; breakfast is served," Alfred pointed to the kitchen bay, where a plate of food was waiting for him. 

The breakfast was precisely what Alfred wouldn’t consider a breakfast but a snack. One mug of coffee, a small plate of chopped fruits and one fried egg.

The butler noticed his confusion—Alfred was by far, the most perceptive member of the family. "I have seen you eat less, Master Richard," Alfred said and proceeded to wash the dishes, giving Dick his back. Clever move, Alfred wasn't looking at him directly, which would make Dick get comfortable and said the things he was afraid to share. 

"Change of diet, I don’t have much food for breakfast anymore." It was a short version of the recent symptoms he was dealing with. Although ignorance wasn't forgiving, the cause was yet unknown; he got nauseated by the sight of food.

"Neither for lunch, you skip it," Alfred said with no doubt, though his tone had no bite. At least, Dick could tell he wasn’t upset by Dick rejecting his food. 

"I eat lunch with Jason, Alfie," Dick tried to lie. In theory, he and Jason had lunch between breaks, in the Batcave. In reality, Jason ate while Dick—well, Dick scrolled through Instagram to avoid Jason’s concerned gaze on him.

"Master Jason told me you weren’t eating; I stopped making lunch for him; he eats your portions," Alfred said in a calm voice as he continued washing the dishes.

"Okay, okay, you caught me. I didn't want to offend you, you know I like your food very much––If I eat and then I teach him acrobatics or if we spar, I feel sick.” Dick made a mental note that Jason was a snitcher. He assumed Jason and Bruce talked about what Dick was teaching Robin, but he didn’t know Jason and Alfred were that close. Mainly. What troubled him was that he wasn't used to demanding respect and trust from his traineés. The Titans loved him; they all wanted to train him; in fact, they fought for a spot to train by his side. On the other hand, Jason thought Dick was dumb enough not to notice that he was using him. Jason was Robin, and he could have chosen anyone to train him, Batman would get him the teacher he wanted. And yet, he had chosen him.

"Master Richard," Alfred called for his attention again.

"Yes, Alfie?"

"One meal at night is not enough to sustain someone with your high activity, Sir, even if apparently, you are unaffected by the lack of nutrients and calories," Alfred pointed out with a suspicious tone behind his words. _'He is hiding something,'_ Dick realized, but he didn't hold it against Alfred. It was the Batfamily's trademark. After all, everyone here was keeping secrets they would protect with their lives.

"The miracle of youth, Alfie," Dick said, smiling to himself like the huge hypocrite he was. If any member of the Titans were behaving this way, he would be onto them, pushing them to eat and take care of themselves as a helicopter parent, as— _oh_ , like Bruce.

"I’m alright, don’t you worry," Dick made an effort to chew and swallow the chopped pieces of fruit in a normal amount of time, as playing with the food wasn’t going to avoid this conversation. 

Once the fruit was gone, Dick chopped the egg in pieces. Little pieces were faster to digest. Possibly, he lost track of time again—it was getting absurd—for the next time, he looked in front of him, Alfred was there, holding a cup of tea with both hands.

The look on Alfred’s eyes, it was—it was paternal—no, Dick didn’t want to go there. Alfred saw him as a kid, one of his kids. It was troublesome to see the kindness reflected in Alfred's eyes, as Alfred saw Bruce as one of his kids as well. And Bruce and Dick—they weren’t siblings, they were lovers.

"Don’t let me interrupt you from your feast, Master Richard," Alfred’s sense of humour didn’t fail to make Dick laugh. Dick laughed, and he hoped that they were okay, he hoped Alfred didn't mind that—

"Sir, I insist," Alfred said and Dick—again, lost track of time.

Alfred used to cook all his meals and sent him extra snacks for his night patrols. Those nights felt eternal as he jumped from one rooftop to another one consecutively, punching thugs and running from the cops and reporters. He didn't stop until his stomach growled for food. He remembered he used to choose whichever rooftop was farther from the one Batman was standing. Eating wasn’t prohibited during the patrol, but fourteen-year-old Dick thought he looked rather unprofessional. Though, probably Batman had known the whole time what was he doing. 

"I’m sorry, Alfred—I’m gonna eat, okay? All my meals, I promise," Dick took two bites of his food and stopped to think. He was perturbing Alfred's peace of mind, who already had a lot on his plate, taking care of Bruce and Jason. They counted as double trouble. Batman and Robin were quite the burdens to deal with, including wakeful nights, endless distress, and bloody injuries.

And yet, here he was, adding another stone for Alfred to carry. Stones, many stones. And he wasn't even counting yet the heaviest stone, the one that had written on it: "I'm sleeping with my former mentor." They didn’t have to, really. As much as Dick hoped Alfred didn't mind the change regarding the nature of the relationship he and Bruce had, it didn't take a genius to notice how Alfred felt about it. The mix of disapproval and concern in Alfred’s eyes spoke more than words. 

Be that as it may, Alfred was family, and for a member of his found family, Dick would try to amend things. Although Dick believed he was doing nothing wrong, he understood that Alfred might find what he and Bruce had... unpleasant.

"Are you mad?" Dick asked, "at us? At me?" Dick didn’t care to conceal the worry on his voice. He wasn't going to fool Alfred, anyway.

The old butler sighed and put the cup of tea on the table. It looked to Dick that Alfred was putting the rights words together to diminish his blow.

"A liar I would be if I say I was blind to your infatuation with Master Bruce. We talked about it, but we agreed that it was a phase. Perhaps, my mistake was not to doubt my sanity after Master Bruce and I agreed on something—Master Bruce is not known for his sane decisions,” Alfred said with a dose of sarcasm that only him could wear with such elegance.

The class of Alfred’s manners did nothing to pacify Dick’s inner turmoil. "Is that a yes?"

"I merely hope that I did not fail you, Master Richard," Alfred questioned him with a piercing stare that threatened to open his head and analyze the depths of his brain. Poor Alfred, Dick’s mind was a dark place.

"No, Alfred, you did nothing wrong," Dick almost reached for Alfred’s hand, but it felt incorrect, he was conflicted. _‘But why? I’m doing nothing wrong. We are doing nothing wrong—I love Bruce, how can that be wrong?_ ’

He was late to dissimulate the distress showing on his face. So Alfred—kind and nice Alfred—spoke to calm him down: "I will live—it will take me time; though I consider it inappropriate, you are not the first _inappropriate_ lover Master Bruce has had. I merely hope you are the last."

"Are you implying that you will agree if we—?" Dick asked in disbelief, eyes squinted.

"I wish you both the best, Master Richard."

**[. . .]**

Dick jumped high. To Jason's eyes, it looked like Dick was flying. It may have been common for Dick to jump great distances without special equipment. Maybe his own grace failed to impress him, but for Jason everything Dick did was surprising. 

The thrill of seeing the acrobat was so hypnotizing that Dick knocked him down, almost as if Jason were made of paper. "You're distracted," Dick sat on Jason's back without putting as much weight on him. "If I were a criminal, I would have shot you by now." Dick poked Jason's head with one of his escrima sticks. "One shot, right here, to finish you off and send you to the land of the dead." 

Beneath him, Jason growled and spat the dirt he swallowed as he hit the ground. Dick liked to train outside, and the mansion had just the right place for it in the backyard. "Get off me, Dickhead! You weight more than a hippo," Jason kicked his legs, but his intent did nothing to Dick, who laughed and caught his legs with one arm. 

"It's not fucking funny, let me go!" Jason demanded. At least, Dick couldn't see his red face in shame. He made a fool of himself in front of Dick, the original Robin, who did everything right and had all the other heroes on his pocket. Whatever Dick did, they all praised him. For that, Jason hated his golden, pretentious guts. 

"I don't know about you, but I'm having fun," Dick said as he made no intention to move. 

"Because you're rewarded, that's why," Jason pulled up with his arms to lunge at Dick. It was useless. "Damn you and your Circus guts!" Jason screamed, frustrated. 

Instead of cutting him some slack, Dick pressed him down further and laughed on his neck, putting Jason in an even more awkward position. As the saying said: "You can only hate what you used to love." It was true. Hating someone involved a level of emotional involvement. Before becoming Robin, Jason had looked up to him. He had had a crush on the masked hero. But that was something he couldn't allow himself to have anymore. He was the new Robin, it was his mantle now, and whatever Dick's Robin had represented, it couldn't mess with Jason's mind. 

"Are you done embarrassing me? Are you done laughing at me?" Jason snarked.

"Nope. You are comfortable like a cushion," Jason didn't have to look back to see the smirk on Dick's face.

 _'What is Dick's damn problem?'_ The question had plagued Jason's mind for a long time. The acrobat didn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space. He didn’t bother Jason unless they were training. However, poor Bruce was his daily victim. Dick followed him like a puppy—a sunshine Golden retriever puppy—who wanted nothing less than his undivided attention. Although the clown was a grown man—5”10 tall and 177 pounds—he had no self-awareness of how preposterous he looked sitting on Bruce’s lap. It was a mystery how Dick got Bruce to accept his unbearable behaviour. Jason had seen the man withdrawn at physical demonstrations of affection, visibly repulsed.

Albeit Bruce made a few exceptions. Sometimes Bruce touched Alfred’s fingers by accident, exchanging newspapers or mugs. Bruce also didn’t mind if Alfred got closer as they talked. They didn't hug often, but the hugs lasted for a considerable amount of time when they did. But Alfred was _Alfred_ , the constant of Bruce’s life after his parent’s died.

For Jason, Bruce squeezed his shoulder to reassure him, he patted his head if he felt extra affectional, and sometimes, he would hug him briefly. Though the hugs only came after Bruce had spent an unusual amount of time studying Jason—as if he didn’t notice—in what Jason assumed it was an attempt to decipher if it was an acceptable time to hug him or not. Bruce didn’t know, and Jason didn’t have the courage to tell him that he wanted physical attention so bad, he would have accepted Dick’s hugs if only the acrobat would try.

Jason knew Dick was family too, but he was a little _too_ much. He was bigger than life; he was pretty, athletic, confident, smart and loved by everyone. What else did he want? Dick had everything; he didn't need Bruce's attention, not as Jason did. The Golden Boy was a selfish semi-God who left nothing for the unlucky ones. Yes, that was the real reason why he hated him. He was jealous; he was a hopeless idiot fighting a war he couldn't win.

"Aren’t you gonna fight me back, Little Wing?"

Jason wasn't going to win, so he did what he did best; he talked back to hurt the acrobat's feelings and pretended he wasn’t the one losing.

"GET—OFF—ME—CIRCUS—FREAK," Jason spat, and Dick stiffed. They both knew what Jason meant, and no, Jason was not proud. He wasn't one to attack others by their origins, and he was better than this. But he was angry and hurt, and Dick was an easy target to strike because Dick would forgive him and then pretend nothing happened.

"Fine," Dick conceded and stood up, "take a break of twenty minutes." Jason wondered for who the break was truly for. He got his answer when he looked back at Dick, who stared back at him with a certain type of pain Jason understood.

"Okay," Jason nodded as he watched Dick, leaving Jason behind with his guilt. Sure, he wanted to punch his pretty face, but Jason wasn't made of steel. The opposite, he was fragile and insecure; he had been built on nothing. Forgotten by his blood, haunted by abandonment issues and by the memory of the faces of all the ones who ripped him open. 

He had had nothing growing up and then, he gained the lottery with Robin, Bruce and Alfred. Was it that bad that he didn't want to share? It would be fairly easy to make Dick his enemy if Jason were a fool. He wasn't at all one. In a place like Gotham, they both were scum without the Wayne last name protecting them. If anything, they were far more alike than Jason's insecurities left him to see.

 _"Another orphan, is Wayne for real?"_ — _"The kid is a stunt to make him look good, how much do you think he gets paid to pretend to be his son?”_ Jason could hear the voices in his memories as loud and clear as the day they were spoken.

 _"Rumours said that he picked this one in the street, can you believe it? A gipsy freak and a street rat—how can he sleep at night?"_ The way they laughed still echoed into his ears; that day, he learnt to bring earphones to the parties Bruce was invited to. Soundproof ears to words he didn’t want to repeat.

 _"Don’t you think it’s weird? Like Bruce, an attractive man collecting unfortunate kids instead of marrying a woman with a respectful last name and a good fortune. I know he has a good heart but,"—"Don’t be a fool, Janine, they pay him on their knees."_ What happened next, Jason didn’t remember. He had a panic attack; screw his childhood, and the many times he had to sell his body to get food.

"Damn it," Jason cursed his soft heart. There was no way to avoid sympathizing with Dick, so he chased after him.

Jason found the older man sitting under a tree, scrolling through his phone. And it was then that he stopped to look at Dick with sincere eyes. The sight of Dick the human, who had lived in the Manor years, alone in the shadows of a haunted house, drowned in painful memories Bruce didn’t want to forget. Dick the human, who had thicker skin and the confidence of a model, and yet his skin cracked at Bruce’s disapproval gaze and Jason’s insults.

"Never meet your heroes," they said, but Batman and Robin weren’t your typical heroes, they were a necessity for a city starved of light and hope. So Jason took the selfish choice and looked the other way because if Dick had a chance to be just a human, he was as flawed as Jason was, and then Robin—Robin would be a mortal too.

**[. . .]**

**Wayne Manor. June 10.**

They came back to the Batcave earlier than other average nights. It had been Dick's call as the lack of crime and noise in Gotham streets didn't justify a sleepless night. For the same reason, Dick sent Jason right straight to bed.

Besides, he didn't mind writing the reports on his own, and this way, he could call Bruce fussing over if Jason was or not listening.

Just his luck, Bruce didn't pick up the phone, though the lack of response wasn't going to stop him. Voicemail existed.

[Recording voicemail: “Hello, handsome! I was thinking about you—Oh, yes, you want to here about Gotham, right? It's all good, nothing new. You'd think that the Riddler would get tired of his own riddles, but nope, he doesn't. Robin is fine, no injuries... Ah, I hate to say it, but we are not good a team. There's no chemistry unless you count the explosive reactions. Listen, I get it, he’s young, I’m young, he’s Robin, I was Robin, bad mix but... I guess, Batman is better with a Robin by his side, so next time, take him with you, *five minutes in silence* Bruce, I know you didn't tell him anything about us before leaving—I gave you an ultimatum, remember?—I don’t want to intrude, he’s your kid but don’t you think it’s worst if he finds out on his own? He is not blind, B, he will figure it out by himself... _Oh,_ that's right—stupid me, I am the idiot, right? Right? You are waiting for him to discover us. It’s a test. It’s a damn test.]

In a theatrical move, Dick hung up the phone. He would have felt like a badass if Bruce could see him. Instead, he felt like a kid after a tantrum that got him nothing.

He tried again. [Recording voicemail: "You know what? I am upset, or I should be upset, but I know it’s my fault for forgetting who you are... Good night, Bruce.]

Dick sat in silence for what felt like a minute, waiting for his brain to kick in and tell his legs to move. And once it did, Dick decided it was a bad idea to write a report when his mind was too busy shaming him for his naivety. 

**[. . .]**

The Master bedroom looked way bigger without Bruce by his side. Dick felt like an intruder by staying the night without his lover, who was the real Wayne. Dick had a right to be there. Even his self-deprecating mind agreed with him. However, the notion that he was invading a place where he didn't belong spoke loud on the back of his head. It was a waste of time to fight against himself. He had two choices: he could stay the night in the Master Bedroom and did his best to ignore his treacherous thoughts, or he could return to his own bedroom.

Dick glanced at the closet, in which Bruce had made a place for him. "In case you want," Bruce had said blushing, it looked like a big deal to him. Dick thought he was adorable, scared by the possibility of Dick's rejection. Then he took a look at the framed photograph on Bruce's nightstand. It was a picture of the two of them, happy and carefree on those rare times they had time for vacations.

"Fuck it. I'm staying."

And then he tried to sleep, burying his head on Bruce's pillow.

_The first thing he noticed was the sound of raining falling. He was in a room illuminated only by the light of the Moon. Was it a night after one of his shows?_

_"...John, I’ve told you how I feel about it, we need to take a decision now, we can’t postpone it. It's a matter of time." It was his mother’s voice filled with worry._

_"We need this job, Mary. We can't just escape them, they will find us. If we are on the public eye, it's harder for the Court to––"_

_"To disappear someone? Have you lost your mind, John? They do it all the damn time!" The voice of his mother was loud, so unlike her.  
_

_"Mary, the boy..." his dad hushed her.  
_

_"Ours, he's ours, he will never be one of them, never! They won't taint his hands with the blood of the innocent," his mother raised her voice; Dick didn't recall a time in which his mother's sounded so vexed._

_"Mom," his voice was an echo that no one heard. "Dad?"_

_Someone opened the door of his room, but his head felt too heavy to look any other way than the ground. Then, he saw the_ _distinctive yellow ballerina flats his mother used to wear walking towards his bed, where he was lying down. It was her, his mom._

_"My child," he heard her said as she kneeled by his side, "my sweet child," he felt her mother petting his head. The touch of his mother felt so real. It was soft, loving, kind. Just liked she used to be. "My Talon." The movement of her hands, signing something caught his attention. He opened his eyes fully, and he stared at her. She was his mom, his Mary, but why were her eyes golden?  
_

_"Remember, Talon. You serve no Court. You serve no one." He had no idea what his mom was talking about, and he would have asked if only his mouth had obeyed his wishes._

_The darkness of the room intensified, and in a sudden instant, all was gone._

Dick woke up agitated, cold sweat on his forehead, which contrasted with how hot his head felt. He glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning. He had been sleeping for over two hours. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to distract himself.

' _What the hell was that?'_ Dick shook his head. It wasn't a good idea to analyze his dreams. His mind was a little bit insane; The problem was that that dream didn't feel like a dream at all.

"Suppressed memories?" An empty feeling in the pit of his stomach validated him. It made sense considering that after witnessing his parents' death, Dick went into a rampage of rage and obsession to murder Zucco. He left no time to guard the memories he shared with them. As a matter of fact, he had forgotten most of the time he had spent with his parents. As time passed and erased what he knew about his parents, it was logical that a part of him would try to recover his suppressed memories.

"Talon? Did she call me Talon?" Frustrated as Dick didn't know what it meant, he tried to sleep again until another visual memory hit him. "Her eyes were... golden."

**[. . .]**

Dick had no excuse to miss training Jason today. It was his job; he didn't sign a paper, but Bruce had asked him to do it, and Dick was a fool for him. Mostly, Dick was annoyed at Bruce for asking, knowing damn well that Dick wouldn't refuse.

On a good day, he and Jason were able to find something close to synchronicity. On those good days, they bantered and laughed. Few good days that Dick appreciated. 

On bad days, one of them would be in a mad mood; Jason either acted impulsively and irrationally or complained about any random excuse he found. And when Dick was the one feeling moody, he asked Jason to run extra laps and repeat the same exercises over and over again just because he could be that petty.   
  
On a terrible day, they both walked on thin ice, ready to explode and fight each other as relentlessly and viciously as they fought criminals in Gotham dirty streets.

The odds were against Dick. The second day with Bruce gone, and it happened to be a terrible day for Jason and Dick. 

It was a blur on Dick's mind. The training had escaped his control, though the kid didn’t do anything he hadn’t done on a bad day.

Arriving late to class to piss him off? Done.

Rolling his eyes at Dick and calling him pretentious? He did it all the time regardless if they were training or not. 

Comparing him to Bruce and saying he would never live up to his legacy? Yes, already done. It was listed as those things that still got under his skin. Dating his former mentor wasn’t easy.

Competing against him instead of listening to what Dick was teaching? Noted. Dick didn’t think the kid had listened to a single thing he had said since day one.

What happened that day was out of his comprehension. He felt pure anger. No particular reason behind his mood. It was simple and primal. He was annoyed by anything existing and breathing near to him. It was the type of anger that mixed badly with chronic anxiety. It felt a lot like little bugs crawling under his skin, so close and yet he couldn’t shake them off. 

"You a getting old, bro," Jason smirked as he kicked his chest with an extra amount of force uncalled for sparring sessions. Dick let it pass. "You know what I read on the internet the other day?"

Dick refused to reply. He focused on blocking Jason's blows. It was easier than addressing his raising anger.

"Acrobats’ active years—you are like a grandpa for a bendy dude," Jason aimed to his face, but Dick was faster—actually, he was feeling faster and stronger than any other day—and caught his leg, flipping him on the mats.

"Hum," Dick shrugged, "age is a relative thing."

"Are you sure? ‘Cause you fight like you’re ready for retirement, bro," Jason laughed, satisfied with himself. 

_’Self–control. He is the kid, and you are the adult.’_ Dick didn’t bite the hook.

"I can hear your bones cracking—"

_'Self–control, self–control.'_

"Alright! You made your point clear. Do you want to spar for real? Fine, choose a weapon for me, and I’ll choose one for yours." Improvisation was a good skill to develop, especially when you fought criminals with no code. 

Jason was taken aback by Dick’s reaction. Probably, he wasn't expecting for Dick take him seriously. Impatient by Jason’s hesitation, Dick took the lead. "Okay, Jay, you take my eskrima sticks, and I take..." Dick didn’t mind a challenge, so he looked for an unfamiliar option, "the knives." 

"Are you ready?" Dick didn’t have to ask as Jason attacked him as a reply. 

The rush of adrenaline alerted Dick to think fast on his feet. Jason was fighting good, and Dick felt a renewed fire burnt on him to fight back and win and stab—

No, he didn’t stab people. He didn’t. It wasn’t his style. Furthermore, they were sparring. It was training, not a real fight. But the secret inner force that overtook him begged to differ. And Dick wanted to say that he tried to stop, but he didn’t. The rush felt like high-quality adrenaline that he hadn’t had felt since the last time he flew in the Circus. It was too good to let it pass.

He was in a new zone. His body moved faster, and in his eyes, Jason moved slower, making it easy for Dick to predict his movements. Effortlessly, he blocked all his blows and disarmed him. 

_‘Too good, it feels too good.’_ Dick was high on the feeling, so he kept on letting overtake him, fighting a Jason who couldn’t keep on with him. 

If he hadn’t been under the control of the unknown source of his power, Dick would have listened to Jason asking him to stop. In a good day, he would have seen the fear of Jason's eyes as Dick stabbed his arm with perfect precision. In a better day, Dick would have caught Jason on his arms, instead of letting him fall to the ground. Any other day, Dick wouldn't have smiled pleased with his work.

Today just wasn’t their lucky day. 

**[. . .]**

  
It happened scarily fast. Jason screamed in pain, and Alfred was already there, Dick had been that deep under the influence of the adrenaline that he didn't even notice in which point Alfred arrived.

 _'What did Alfred see?'_ Dick didn't get answers as Alfred hurried to assist Jason, but the look on Alfred's eyes—he didn't want to think about it.

Just as the day ended, Alfred called Dick to tell him that Jason was fine. Even if Dick's fault was, Alfred was kind enough to explain what Leslie had told him. Despite the feeling of guilt that was consuming him, Dick was aware that Alfred was trying to reassure him. He wasn't mad, and he wasn't blaming him. But Dick knew better, he knew what he had done. The powerful energy he felt running through his veins, the confidence and the precision in which he owned his body and its execution. It felt _right_ , like second nature to him.

"What have I done?" Dick sat on the floor, hiding his head between his knees. How was he going to face Bruce after what he did? The thought that he had lost control like that terrified him. He had no idea what happened to him. He had never done something like that, had he? 

He was terribly sorry, and he wanted to take away Jason’s pain. He wanted to erase the fear and pain he saw on Jason’s eyes. He wanted to make him forget. The sight of Jason bleeding was wrong. Though they were used to injuries and pain, the ones who attacked them were rogues and criminals; The issues between Jason and Dick were real, but they were family. A non-traditional type of family, family nonetheless.

**[. . .]**

[Recording voicemail: "B, are you there? Please, call me back. I need to talk to you. Something terrible happened. I hurt Jason during training. Alfred took him to Leslie’s clinic, she said he’s fine, he will be fine, *three minutes silence* I thought the right thing was to tell you by myself because I was the one who... Bruce, I didn't want to hurt him, you have to believe me—Again, I’m so sorry."]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments, kudos and subscriptions 💙


	13. Four Seasons In One Day Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! 💙

**Lake House, June 10.**

Bruce wasn’t one to procrastinate. 

Yet, here he was at three in the morning. Far from home, hiding away to focus on his research without making Dick suspicious. 

Another sleepless night for sure. Holding on his hand the small, black book he had stolen from the Court.

The golden owl on the front stared at him, all-knowing that Bruce wouldn’t appreciate the information it contained. 

It wasn’t the first time he had faced the Court. If anything, he had known that this day would come. Rotten roots didn’t just die; they gave birth to terrible seeds to perpetuate their legacy. 

Nonetheless, things had changed since the last time the Court and Batman met. Mostly because Batman hadn’t even existed at all, he had met them as Bruce Wayne, heir of the Wayne fortune. He was the type of member any secret organisation wanted to have. Influential, rich and powerful. 

After all, he wouldn't have been the first Wayne to join, but Bruce hoped his father would be the last one.

Regardless of what others expected, Bruce had said _no,_ and if they asked him today, he would repeat _no_. 

They represented what Bruce despised, mindless executioners who had no respect for the living. They weren’t trying to reform anyone. No, they were judges hiding in the shadows. And the Owls were feeble mercenaries, who used the Talons as tools to fight their battles. They fought ruthlessly, unforgiving of their victim’s life. 

Unpleasant. Graceless. The Court was a problem that needed to be ended. 

Though it wasn’t as easy as simply attacking them. Not now that Dick was caught in the middle.

Dick, who was a Talon chosen by birth. He was the legacy of a long line of assassins. He was tainted with invisible blood, cursed with a destiny of death and pain. 

All these years, he had been waiting for Dick to show a sign of his _Talon_ nature. He was a Grayson after all. But he never did. He stayed true to his kind nature and remained open and optimistic, night after night, even when the world tried very hard to change his hopeful mind.

There had been no signs that pointed out a source of evil brewing inside Dick’s heart. 

The only unsettling thing had been the fast speed in which Dick learnt everything that Bruce taught him. He had been too good.

Even then, as Robin raised with incredible, sharp skills, Bruce chose to unsee the rarity of his abilities. He had been selfish. Batman needed a partner and Robin was a perfect fit. 

Word on the street ran fast and less than a year after Robin was born, the newspapers called him _Wonder Boy_.

Yes. Dick had been a wonderful boy. The contradiction was that as wonderful as Dick had been, he hadn’t been a boy at all. 

It took years for Bruce to see it. Only after Jason, he noticed that Dick was unique. And no, Jason wasn't less of a fighter. The second Robin was terrific, but the first one was something else. He had been a prodigy; bestowed with a talent that made him look exceptional, even among the metahumans in his team. 

The will of steel he had, stronger than a lantern, it was inhuman. The way his body recovered after Two-Face broke his bones like scrambled eggs. What was he made of?

Bruce had tested him more than twice for the metahuman gene. He found nothing at all. 

He tried. The Talon genetic alteration was just impossible to identify. According to this father’s notes, there was a way to test someone for the Talon’s gene, but Bruce never found the way. 

It was too late. The Court was on the haunt. Even if Dick didn't present naturally as a Talon, the Court could still activate the gene in him. All they needed to do was to abduct him. 

What a cliché. Once again, he was trying to save his lover from the path of assassination and crime. 

If they were there, Selina and Silver would laugh at him. As for Talia, she would be satisfied, watching Bruce fell into the same trap again. 

_Beloved, how the tables had turned_.

And this time, he could say she was right.

**[. . .]**

He had been working for hours, collecting and comparing all the new information he had. It was exhausting, but details were crucial in an investigation.

Though it was hard to focus when his phone kept ringing.  
  
His phone rang a fourth time; whoever was calling him, they were desperate to contact him. 

"Bruce Wayne," he said out of habit. 

"I’m outside," she said.

How informative. Bruce chuckled. "You know how to pass through the security system, Selina," the audacity, really.

"And here I thought you were a gentleman," Selina sounded out of breath on the other side of the line, which meant she was already trespassing the security. 

"I’ll see you in the living room." He hurried to hide all the evidence he had on display. Though he was in the mini Cave, he didn't want to risk it. 

By the time he got to the living room, she was already sitting on the couch, drinking a bottle of wine. 

"A little early for alcohol, but be my guest," Bruce said as he took a seat in front of her. 

"It’s not early after you get a call that six of you men were murdered last night," she snarled.

She took two long sips straight from the bottle and shook her head. Her black hair was shorter than Bruce recalled. It was slightly less messy. 

"Stop staring like a lecherous old man. I thought your Matches’ phase was over," she picked up a cigarette and lighted it up.

Bruce hated the smell of smoke, but Matches tolerated it. Sometimes Bruce made a few exceptions and let others smoke in his houses. 

"I am not staring," Bruce said, even tone.

"It’s my pronounced cleavage, I know, men," she spat the word men as it offended her. "Nasty creatures."

"I can’t say I disagree with your statement about men," Bruce said. "Though even the wildest creatures can be domesticated."

"Like when you tried to lock me in a cage? Tied by a ring and a certificate of marriage?" There she was. The ex he remembered all too well, always changing her mind. 

"You liked the ring," Bruce merely said because there was nothing else to add. It was too late to argue that she had said yes. There had been days when she had been enthusiastic about their wedding. And other days, she had punished him for giving her what she had said she wanted.

"The ring was nice," she laughed with bitterness. Nothing new. What were they but good old times, tainted by resentment and pride?

The marriage could have never worked, but at least, she had liked the ring so much that she even kept it. 

It was a good thing. He didn't want the ring back. It brought bad memories. Besides, he would buy another. One made just for Dick. 

"I had a rough night," she said, finally letting her guard down. The wine effect kicking at the right time. 

"They were doing nothing wrong," and she stopped him with a hand gesture for him not to say what was on the tip of his tongue.

_Selina, they were thugs working for the mafia._

She inhaled deep from her cigarette and then, "I’m not blind; they weren’t honourable men, they weren’t you and your Robins."

"Robin and Nightwing," Bruce corrected her, and perhaps, he needed to do a better job to conceal the blush on his face when he said Nightwing. 

She rolled her eyes, "whatever, I don’t care, the same bird in different colours."

More wine and the smoke of her cigarette, just like when they used to escape to Paris.

"I don’t understand why they killed them. See, I paid my monthly fee to the Court; that’s why I’m here. I thought they, the Owls, knew that I had sided with Batman. Killing my men makes sense, it’s a way to shut me up, but I saw the bodies, Bruce. I’ve seen the trace their Talons leave after a murder, marking the territory as a conquest. And what I saw," she paused to cough. "It wasn’t _them_."

Bruce stared at her with scepticism. To his knowledge, the modus operandum of the Court didn't include murdering low paid thugs. Usually, they focused on big names. If they really wanted to stop Selina’s dirty businesses, they would have murdered her.

"Interesting; do you have further details?"

She snorted mockingly. "I didn't come to talk with Batam without proof in my hands.

He smirked. This was entertaining. "So who is your suspect?"

"The League of Shadows, Bat." 

Correction. This wasn’t entertaining at all. 

There was no way the League of Shadows was in Gotham murdering nameless thugs. It wasn’t a common target for them. Besides, after Ra’s was forced to step down as the Demon's head, Talia and Batman had made a truce. She promised not to accept contracts that involved Gotham. 

She wouldn’t break her promise, would she? 

He was thinking too loud. Selina saw his disbelief reflected in his face. 

"Before you defend her, the love of your life, the princess of whatever her dad is the King of, let me remind you that she had attacked me before."

"I do know Talia is capable of violence, but she's not a beast. It's unlikely that she did this to you." He didn't add that it was a job that a _princess of murder_ such as Talia wouldn't do. It was a lost battle to fight with his ex for his other ex.

"I don't need you to believe my words. I have proof!" She finished her cigarette and handed him a fat folder that looked, indeed, like substantial proof. 

"Photos, videos and a recording of Talia’s men talking to a local, they both spoke Arabic, I had no idea what they said, but you can translate it, and there, in page five, there’s a photo of Talia," Selina huffed and crossed her arms, she wasn't going to back down.

Bruce stared perplexed at the evidence. High-quality photos and an adequate level of research. He would have praised the improvement of her detective skills, but she always said he was an unbearable, condescending moron. So he didn’t. 

"This is troublesome. Talia is a planner, and if she's here, there must be a reason behind her actions. I promise you I’ll look into it," Bruce hesitated to say more. This could be a huge misunderstanding. Moreover, when Talia was in Gotham, she let him know. So he didn't have to look for her location. Take a was a woman of habits, she would come to him, but Selina didn't have to know that. 

Instead, he redirected the conversation to something that was genuinely causing him trouble. 

"Have you gotten news about the Court?" Bruce asked as polite as he could. However, considering how she frowned her eyebrows, she didn't appreciate the change of topic. 

She never liked his bluntness. She thought he was rude. So unlike Dick, who thought his eagerness to solve a case was _adorable_ or Jason, who was amused by his attitude.

"Please and thank you," she said, of course, and rolled her eyes. "From what I've heard, they are keeping a low profile. Not even the gangs working Falcone and Penguin had seen Talons in the shadows. I mean, Falcone always pays but Penguin? Greedy masochist bitch, he doesn’t mind getting stabbed by the Talons. And who knows, Bruce? Maybe even _they_ take vacations, unlike you and your self-righteous friends."

Sometimes, no news had a bigger significance than rumours. Also, as far as Bruce knew, the Talons were excellent at doing their job in silence. 

Where did this leave the League of Shadows? 

"If the League of Shadows is here in Gotham planning something and the Court is keeping a low profile, either they are waiting to attack each other, or they are on the same side. The second is unlikely; however... two forces of murder might have more in common than what I can see," Bruce said, more to himself than Selina but she replied to him anyway.

"It wouldn’t be such a crazy idea, Bat, we mob bosses make deals all the time, why can’t leaders of shady secret organisations do the same thing?" She had a point.

For mutual benefit, the egos of criminal minds could join. Nonetheless, these unions rarely last as their roots were wretched with poison and lies.

"You are not thinking in talking some sense into your ex-girlfriend’s psycho mind, aren’t you, Bat?" She raised a well-knowing eyebrow at him. Bruce didn’t mind his exes as often, they didn’t know him, but Selina did. And she could be as annoying as Dick when they wanted to get an answer from him.

"My methods are none of your business, but thank you for the information; Is there anything I can do for you?" 

The question was genuine. One could argue that Bruce was rude and stern, but he wasn’t a tree in the tundra, his blood didn’t run ice cold. And even if he wasn’t good at showing it, he appreciated what others did to help him.

"Actually, yes," she said calmly, but her cigarette trembling on her hand betrayed her confidence. "They found my apartment and left a message, I’m not scared, but I’m not confident either," she paused and stared at the floor. Her body language screamed: _I’m scared for my life_. "Let me stay here for a few days."

"Here? With me?" He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but it wasn’t something he would offer either. "I had safe—houses in Gotham’s downtown, closer to your _job_ ," if being a local mob boss was considered a job at all. "It will be more practical for you."

"You don’t want me here," she snorted and lighted up another cigarette. "Does your new accessory get jealous?"

"He’s not an accessory, he’s my partner," Bruce clarified.

"But he’s the jealous type, isn’t he?" The lack of silence spoke itself, and when it came to Bruce, his silence was quite loud.

"Don’t worry, tell him that he is welcomed to join us," she said with a seductive voice that put at her feet anyone who was attracted to women. 

Bruce repressed a smile because the thought of Dick Grayson willing to _share_ him with anyone was ridiculous. He had gotten jealous of all his former lovers. Though the young man was tolerant of Selina, Bruce had learnt the hard way that Talia and Dick couldn’t be in the same room unless he wanted them to start a fire.

Even with Jason, things hadn’t been easy in the beginning. They both had seen each other as threats. However, Dick had made an effort to be the mature one and made peace with Jason. Still, it was hard to forget his first reaction when he saw the new Robin, standing next to Batman. 

_He can be Robin when I die_ , he said. Fists clenched and ready to punch Batman. Just Batman as Dick, either S Robin or Nightwing, he didn’t hit kids. 

"I don’t think so. Find a room that you like, not mine, and stay as long as you need," he said and excused himself to keep on working. 

That was it. Playing with fire was a terrible idea. Besides, he had to do something about the piles of work he had accumulated from Wayne Enterprises. 

* * *

**Manor, June 10.  
**

It was a matter of making the right decisions. 

Alfred had seen Master Richard grow up, from his Robin’s days to his more troubled days as he tried to make a name for himself. Far from Gotham, far from the family that he had lighted up with his presence.

In Alfred's eyes, Dick remained the same vibrant kid he used to know. He carried himself with a similar sparkle on his eyes, curious and passionate. Though his light had been bruised by all the tragedy and violence he had seen through his life, the source of his pure light never ceased to exist.

Since the first time he had seen the kid, sitting alone in the kitchen, refusing to speak and eating nothing, Alfred had recognized that Dick Grayson was more than a conventional kid inside that small body. He was a contradiction. Sharp and soft, bright and resentful, kind and furious. He was what he was, the product of a tragic history forged by two daring souls that dared to defy the Court.

Alfred didn’t know the details, but he had overheard Master Thomas’ conversation with his last Talon. Although the Court had tried to bury what the Graysons had done, other Talons had held onto the hope that they could be the next to escape. When Alfred had confessed what he knew about what the Graysons had done, not even Master Bruce had taken him seriously. After all, nobody left the Court.

Nonetheless, the path of freedom was made of hardships. Most of the Talons had been too genetically altered to have a chance to join society again. And though Master Thomas had tried to find a way to help them, he didn't live enough to see his work done. 

There was no proof, and there won’t be. If there ever was, the Court surely burned it to the ground. But if there was someone who wanted the Waynes' dead, it was the Court.

Despite the suspicious circumstances in which Master Richard’s parents perished, the child didn’t have to pay for sins he didn’t commit.

The risk had been high, overlooking the child’s background and disregarding the dreadful legacy he carried written on his last name. However, Alfred rested assured it had been the best decision. If Master Richard had had any chance to a second chance in life, choosing for real who he wanted to be, it had been with Master Bruce and him. Since not even the Court of Owls dared to attack Batman in his home.

The opportunity for Master Richard to have a normal childhood vanished as his desire to avenge his parents' death magnified. Although Alfred disagreed, it hadn't been such a bad idea for Master Bruce to train the little boy.  


They both recognised how skilled Master Richard was. The child had been trained previously. It was a clear fact for Alfred to see, but Batman refused to acknowledge how dangerous Talons were in reality. 

Aware of how obsessive and unorthodox Master Bruce could be, Alfred stopped insisting on further research. "Master Richard isn’t a lab rat," Alfred reminded Batman that Robin was his soldier and yet, he had no right to put him through the stress of a myriad of lab tests. Over and over again, just to find that there was nothing atypical in his biology. 

The years went by, and Dick didn’t present as a Talon. His DNA didn’t change, his behaviour remained the same, and he didn’t have any apparent connexion with the Court.

And as the seasons changed, the way the Dynamic Duo interacted changed too. So Alfred decided to spy less on them. He wasn’t startled for what had been evident for years. The longing glances and clingy touches revealed they were attracted to each other. After a while, Alfred understood that the extra nights Master Bruce reserved in hotels were for Master Richard and him to share. 

Though inappropriate, Alfred knew better than to judge anyone else's choices. He had come to learn than in life, plans rarely came to fruition and that against morality and logic, there were things meant to be.

On his own experience, a younger Alfred would have never thought that he would spend his life taking care of strangers that became more family to him than his blood relatives. 

So Alfred decided to be merely an observer, letting things unfold naturally. However, what he had seen today called for action, even if he refused to mingle, Master Jason deserved better than to suffer for Master Bruce’s and his past decisions.

The conflicted feelings steered from his gut to his throat. Honestly, he could have done nothing to stop Talon from injuring Master Jason. Those moves, the speed and deadly intentional precision, weren’t Master Richard’s. He had seen the grace of the acrobat when he fought. He was fast and hard to predict, but he kept the impact of his hits on the lighter side. To the contrary, Talon was here to kill, and Master Jason had been his perfect prey. 

Fortunately, it was Master Richard’s will of steel that stopped what could have been an imminent assassination.

It felt like hours. To the second, Master Richard interrupted his attack, to the moment Alfred carried Master Jason to the medical bay. Even worse was the moment Alfred had to admit that he wouldn’t be able to help him. He needed a hospital. Alfred had experience driving fast, but that day, he had broken his record.

It pained him to leave Master Richard waiting, but he could only focus on one task, which it was avoiding Master Jason from bleeding out. 

On the car seat, next to him, "Alfred," he had heard the small voice of the young Robin calling for him, but Alfred didn’t dare to look at him. He was bleeding, he knew. 

Another kid bleeding. All the trouble with Master Richard had been enough for a lifetime. To bear an additional source of nightmares, along with the ones in which he buried both the original dynamic duo together was more than the agony Alfred ever thought he was going to feel.

If Master Jason died or had any permanent damage, it would be on both Master Bruce and him. They were the ones who knew. Master Richard didn't have a way to fight what he ignored. Sadly, the butler knew Richard’s predisposition for self-blame too well. 

Though the blame fell on the ones who knew Talon had been sleeping inside Master Richard for years, Alfred was confident that it would be Richard who would take all the blame.

**[. . .]**

**Hospital.**

The hardest part wasn’t even over yet. Leslie explained to him the delicate state in which Master Jason was. The words echoed through his mind, making no sense at all. 

"...it might take months for him to walk again... he’s young and healthy, we have his youth on our side..."

She kept talking, and he kept on nodding. It was a puzzle of words Alfred hadn’t heard in a long time. Ironically, the last time he was here for a young teenager, it had been for the first Robin after Two-Face tried to break him in pieces. And now it was by the hand of the original Robin why the second Robin was here.

"...Bruce hadn’t found anything about his real mother yet? The family records are so important..."

The only family Master Jason was them. He had no one else to rely on.

"...I’m also going to need for you to call Bruce, please, he has some papers to sign..."

He typed the phone number and called him, hoping Bruce would be too busy to pick up the phone. 

"Alfred, is everything alright?" Bruce asked worriedly. This man, who was his son in ways blood couldn’t prove, was used to bad and urgent news. Yet, Alfred hated being the one delivering them to him. 

"We have a problem," he said.

"I’m listening," Bruce said.

"Talon awoke during training, it was only for a brief moment, but it was all it took for him to..." Alfred’s heart rate was going too fast for him to speak. 

But he didn’t need to finish as Master Bruce filled the blanks. 

"Jason?"

"I’m sorry, Master Bruce," a mug falling on Bruce’s side of the line as Alfred spoke. "We are in Central Gotham Hospital. Leslie needs you here to sign—"

"I had a meeting I can't cancel, but I'll be there in five hours, more or less," He said abruptly. "Alfred, please, take care of my kid."

"I always do, Sir." It was all Alfred did. He took care of the three men, especially Jason, who was the youngest. 

"And Talon?" Bruce asked in a doubtful whisper. 

"I'll take care of him too," Alfred said, and Master Bruce didn't question what that meant. Though before he hung off, he did warn Alfred, "be careful."

Alfred huffed. He was a former MI6 agent. It was Talon who had to be careful. Also, five hours was an ample amount of time for Alfred to take care of one unfinished business.

In the meantime, there was nothing Alfred would like to foresee. This didn’t look well for anyone. However, according to his experience as the primary caretaker of the original Dynamic Duo’s dynamics, he knew who would take the first fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post Part II later tonight or tomorrow.


	14. Four Seasons In One Day Part II

**Manor, June 10.**

It happened quickly.

It had been a huge mistake, but people made mistakes all the time, right? There was no need to panic, no need to feel guilty. 

Jason was going to be okay, and Bruce couldn't stay mad at him forever. 

But was it a mistake if he enjoyed how powerful he felt? 

"No, no, I didn't want to hurt him," he said as he compulsively paced in the Master’s bedroom. 

He was scared, but he was also energised. He had felt truly alive as a secret power awoke inside him. Too good to be good for him.

Dick had no recollection of the specific instant in which he had lost control of his body. However, he remembered with clarity the electrifying rush of energy running through his veins. It had been an exhilarating experience, almost worth the trouble.

"No, no, intrusive thoughts, I didn’t want to hurt him."

No, it wasn't worth it. The cost had been Jason’s well-being.

Yet, his refusal to admit the high he had experienced was taking him nowhere.

How had he stabbed Jason in all the right places to incapacitate him? It was beyond his understanding of how and when he had become that good at using knives with such deadly precision.

For sure, Bruce had taught him how to use knives. Though the technique Bruce taught him was effective, it wasn’t as flawless as the one he had acquired overnight. 

It didn’t make any sense.

Unless... unless he remembered the training he had received in the Circus. 

"The Circus!" The memory didn’t fell well in his gut. What he had learnt in the Circus was beyond performative, it was, it was—

"Dangerous."

A clown in the circus didn’t have any business knowing that efficiently how to injure using knives. Most certainly, he didn’t have any business teaching a kid all his secrets. And if he would dare to remember a little more, he was certain it would make less sense. 

Though his brain wasn't asking him for permission to remember, apparently, his body had decided to take over today and ignored Dick's wishes.

Buried, repressed memories surfacing to haunt him. Just his luck. It fitted his life’s theme of miserable surprises.

The memories came as images, and they overflowed his mind, tied together to recreate a film of his childhood. He had been there. He lived it all. But when he watched the film through his eyes, it felt everything but familiar. Was he that kid? Was the man standing next to him his father? 

It was an old memory, but it was clear in his head, clear as the daylight of a Spring morning. 

_His dad carried him on his arms, and Dick, barely seven years old, held onto him tightly. The underlying emotions were strong. His dad was proud of him, and Dick was elated. What was he celebrating?_

"I killed a squirrel." Well, it was a strange reason to feel good. Dick didn’t like hurting animals. 

But he didn't like hurting Jason either, right? 

_"You did great; those animals are fast," his dad kissed the top of his head. "You have the skills, the pure blood of a born—_

"Talon." The word tasted like blood on his tongue. Was it his synesthesia? He wasn't bleeding at all.

"What’s a Talon?" His brain gave him nothing but the taste of blood and an image of a white, old owl. 

"Well, that was odd." He stopped his pacing and took a seat on the bed.

"Fuck me." He shared this bed with Bruce, the man whose son had been sent to the hospital by Dick’s hostile attack. He didn't even know how much damage he had caused. 

"I'm really good at ruining good things, aren't I?" Dick said as he started to realise the weight of his actions. Little by little, the rush that had energised him was fading into nothing but a miserable emotional hangover.

How could have he had lost control like that? Not even Selina had dropped him from a building, the countless times Robin made her angry for not letting get away with robbery. He was certain that not even Talia had made a mistake like this. 

"Not even the Queen of Swords," and now Dick was laughing because it was a much better idea than to pay attention to the tears accumulating on the verge of his eyes. 

But there was nothing he could do as he waited for Alfred and Jason to come back from the hospital. He had offered his help, but Alfred had asked him to stay home. He looked panicked even under his stoic English manners. 

"Something tells me I won't feel the aster today," Dick resigned himself. There were things beyond his power, and Jason’s current state was out of his reach. 

The silence was counterproductive. There were no distractions. It was just him and the memory of his dad, holding him and smiling with a deadly smirk, the one his mother had on his dreams.

Deadly smirks. It was sort of wicked, and it was sort of proud—the type of pride only experience bestowed upon its vessels.

But what kind of experience did his parents had?

_In murder._

"No, intrusive thoughts. They were professional acrobats," which for some reason, they didn’t have the typical acrobat body type. They were too tall to be flexible and their bodies, which had met the impact of falling a myriad of times, hadn’t been covered with the scars of training.

It was uncanny. During their career, the Graysons had an immaculate record of performances with zero cancelled shows.

They didn’t get—they didn’t get injuries, they were—

"Immortals," but didn't all the kids think their parents would live forever? Besides, his memory wasn't a reliable source as trauma's erratic effects had influenced it. To cope with the loss of his parents and home, he made for himself a perfect mental picture of who his parents had been.

What was real? What was the product of his imagination? He guessed he would never really know. The life he had before the Manor and Robin existed in fractals of his imagination, blurred by the mist of homesickness.

_He was eating his mom’s curry. It was one of his favourites. They were looking at him so happy and proud, God, they loved him. He remembered it as fact, clear as if he had seen yesterday and not years ago._

_"Look at him, he still likes food," his mother giggled._

_"Of course, he does, I do too!" His father said playfully, but there was no food on his plate. Instead, an Owl mask took its place.  
_

_"You don’t count, Owls don’t suppress their appetite, only Talons do," his mother snorted and leaned her head on his father’s shoulder._

_"So? He’s half Owl, half Talon," his father said, looking at Dick but Dick lowered his gaze to focus on his food. He hadn’t been that shy, had he?_

_His mother sighed, satisfied. "Who cares? Look at him. He’s precious, he’ll be whatever he wants to be," the smile on her mother’s face was darkened by the shadow of something Dick couldn’t describe, but he didn’t feel fear. He held her gaze with ease._

_"Finish your food, Richard," and there it was. The apprehension of hearing his dad telling him what to do. His dad spoke in a smooth voice, but the order wasn't. He followed the pull him to lower his head and continue to eat._

_Though it was a forceful command, he wasn't scared. It felt right in his bones to be told what to do by––_

"What the hell?" And though he hadn’t been frightened of his father as a child, he certainly was now. 

Asphyxiation. The lack of air made him feel trapped, four walls getting closer and closer. Caged like a bird, like a Robin. "No, intrusive thoughts," but were they? All this time, he had thought he had a terrible case of bloody thoughts that gave him the world worst ideas, but what if his imagination hadn’t made them up?

"Escape," from what? Who knew? But running far away from home and hiding in the Titans Tower sounded better than anything else. Though, hadn’t it been that the pattern of his life? He was always running, escaping, hiding from something he didn’t know. He couldn’t recall why it was vital to run away, but it felt like the best option to hide from danger.

Which danger? 

"Oh, shit," Dick dropped to the floor.

One, two, three. He inhaled in. Four, five, six, he held his breath. Seven, eight, nine, he exhaled out. And repeated it over and over again until he could feel his body again. 

"Get it together, Grayson," he wasn’t the one who had the right to feel distressed. It was Jason. He was the one who needed comfort and protection.

On the other hand, Dick was an idiot being played by his imagination. He was tired and afraid.

"Owls and Talons, really, I should write a book," he laughed. At least, his mind had its productive side. 

The footsteps in the corridor warned him that someone was home and someone had to be Alfred. Had Jason stayed in his bedroom? Probably, why would the kid want to be near to him after what happened?

"Master Richard," Alfred said as he opened the door. He stalled in the threshold, waiting for Dick to notice him. 

"Hey, Alfie, you are back," Dick said, turning his head to face him but unwilling to stand up from the floor. He didn't trust his legs to hold the weight of his guilt.

"Quite a choice of a seat, Sir. In case your memory falters, we have perfectly comfortable couches, and two happen to be in this bedroom," Alfred said, but he wasn’t sarcastic, he wasn’t angry either. It was kind of soft, the gentleness Dick didn’t feel he deserved.

"Is Jason back too? Is he alright? What did Leslie say?" Dick questioned abruptly as subtleness required a certain peace of mind he lacked in these tense moments. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"For the time being, rest," Alfred said as if it wasn’t twenty before nine at night. Any moment given, Dick would have to suit up and fill the boots for both Batman and Robin. If he were lucky tonight, Barbara and Kate would join him.

"Nope, no can do, Alfred," Dick said amused. Alfred was talking to him as if he hadn’t stabbed Jason six times, with a speed and precision that it didn’t cease to amaze him. 

"It wasn’t a question, Sir," Alfred adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, and then, he helped him to sit on the bed. "Sir, don’t make this more difficult than it is."

And seriously, why was Alfred talking to him as if here five? If Dick hadn’t felt less like a ragdoll and more like a real human, he wouldn’t have been that docile.

"But what about Jason? And Bruce? Have you talked to him? I called him, but he didn’t pick up the phone. I left him a voice message," Dick pleaded, but Alfred ignored him as he examined the nape of his neck with cold hands.

"I’m fine, Alfred, I’m not the one stabbed—" the pinch of a needle startled him. "What the?" The drug was rapidly taking over his senses, and it was nothing like either Alfred or Bruce had used on him before. It made it so easy for Alfred to take off his shoes and jacket and shoved him under the blankets.

"Hush, Sir, sleep is mandatory to control your kind."

His kind? As in Romani? No, it couldn’t be. Alfred had never used a derogatory term with him, never.

"I don't understand," Dick made his best effort to sit down, but his core was paralyzed.

"Unbelievable, you’re fighting it," whatever surprised Alfred, it was causing Dick to panic. What was happening? Why was Alfred doing this? He wasn't mad at him, was he?

"Alfie—" he asked, confusion showing shily on his face as his face muscles numbed down.

Another pinch on his neck, another dose. "Don’t fight it, Master Richard, it’s for your own good." Alfred’s word barely calmed him, the man was one of the few people he trusted with his life, but he hated to be induced to sleep this way.

"Close your eyes, Sir," it was a bad idea, but he had no choice as his body was shutting down.

Everything went dark, and the distant sounds faded away in the distance.

"One of a kind, the Graysons’ bloodline." It was the last thing he heard as his conscious drifted into sleep.

* * *

**Lake House.**

Six hours. Bruce couldn’t believe his bad luck. The day his son was in the hospital, it was the same day that the board decided to talk investments for the next year. He couldn’t care less, but he couldn’t leave either as he was on a thin line with the executives.

So he stayed online, listening to what Enterprises made the cut for WE to buy.

As soon as the meeting was adjourned, he rushed to get his keys and bat—gadgets. At least, this late at night, the traffic in Gotham had ceased. He could make it to the hospital in less than thirty minutes. 

"Brucie, What if we––"

"What?" He turned back to see Selina. She was standing behind him, but he hadn’t noticed. He was distracted, and he couldn’t even hide it. How could he? Jason was hurt, and he wasn’t by his side. 

"Where are you going?" She asked.

Bruce didn’t understand the purpose of her question. Why did she want to know where he was going? They weren’t together anymore, and she was staying with him as a favour. 

"Are you going to let me her alone?" The fear haunted her facial features, and it was then that Bruce remembered their last conversation. She believed Talia was haunting her.

"Look, Selina, Talia isn’t haunting you, and if she was, this house has excellent security. You are safe here, alright? I have to leave, Jason is in the hospital," he explained as he buttoned his black coat. 

"Jason? As in Robin? Didn't you tell me that Nightwing was keeping an eye on him?"

"So I thought," Bruce said with a severe tone. For now, he had to detach himself from Dick. It was for the best. There was the risk that his anger would mix Talon and Dick as the same person, and they were definitely not. Moreover, it wasn’t time to look for the guilty ones.

"I’m coming with you," she said decisively.

Bruce nodded and didn't give a second thought to her words. 

"Thanks for the umbrella," she said as she followed him to the car under the rain.

In a better situation, Bruce would have offered her an umbrella. But this wasn't a good time; his son was in the hospital after being attacked by the elite, trained assassin that lived inside Dick. 

"It’s cold," she said as she bucked up in the seat next to him.

Certainly, the weather was cold, but he felt nothing. His blood boiled in anger and impatience. 

He set the GPS, looking for the fastest route to get to the hospital. He was going to get there and make sure that the best medical team was attending Jay.

"Do you have an extra coat?" She asked out of the blue. 

"What did you say?" He asked but didn't take his eyes off of the road. 

"Do you have an extra coat? I forgot mine."

"I don’t know. I'm driving, Selina, look in the backseat."

She didn't like his answer since she didn't reply. It wasn't a bad thing, though, he drove faster in silence. This way, he could focus on the things he had to arrange later and tomorrow.

On the top of his list, it was to check on Jason. The kid was a fighter; he had survived after his mother died by an overdose, and his father left him. He would be fine, he had to. 

Then he would have to watch the video. How had Dick transformed? Did his eyes turn yellow ochre? What else would help to identify Talon in the future? And what had triggered him? 

Jason, Talon and then, _Dick_. How was he coping with what he did? Did he even remember? 

"You are driving too fast." Selina broke the silence, probably tired of being ignored since she hadn't minded how fast he drove in the past. 

"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

"Yes," he said as he omitted a second red traffic light today. 

"Why is so special about this kid anyway? You found him in Crime Alley stealing—oh wait, you like thieves, good point," she laughed. 

Two squares left, and they would arrive at the hospital. 

"He’s my son, Selina, I adopted him," but she already knew that. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t a personal attack. She didn’t like kids. She had found Dick annoying when he was Robin, so it was predictable that she would dislike Jason too.

It wasn’t personal, but Bruce took it that way, as any other parent would do. 

"I know you rich people are obsessed with heirs and legacies, but he’s not a Wayne by born, do you really think the board will accept him?" She asked, and she wasn’t kidding. She was actually asking that and—

It was personal. 

"He’s family, a member of my family; the board has no saying in who I choose as my heir," he said, cutting her off. He didn’t need an extra reason to be angry. Besides, he hadn’t updated his testament. Everything was under Dick’s name. 

"Still not your blood, which makes him an annoyance to your _elite friends_ ," Selina added.

Sadly, she had a good point. 

"As anyone else in my family is, Selina." Neither Jason, Dick or Alfred were well accepted in the elite community. Even if Alfred had raised him, all they saw was an employee when they saw him. Dick didn’t even have that consideration. He wasn’t a Wayne, he didn’t work for Wayne Enterprises, and most newspapers called him an opportunist. At least in legal terms, Jason had the advantage since he had been adopted.

But this was trouble for another day. 

As they arrive at their destination, Bruce gave her the keys. "I trust you will park the car and won’t run away with it."

"As long as you give me your coat, yes."

Fine. One thing for another. She was going to steal his coat, instead of the car. 

"All yours," he said as he took it off. He liked this coat. Dick had bought it for him, and yes, he had used his money, but that didn’t matter. Dick was thoughtful with his gifts; he knew he had sensory issues and only chose what was comfortable for Bruce to wear. 

"Oh, come on, it’s just a coat." 

Not to him.

"See?" She said as she put it on. "Now go, go, your Robin needs you."

**[. . .]**

**Hospital.  
**

The hospital was cold and deserted. One thing on his favour, he didn't have to deal with the press, and people taking pictures of him. 

As he was the top contributor of the hospital, they closed the whole floor Jason was in. It was a matter of safety; reporters dared to do anything to get a photograph of the Waynes. 

"Alfred," he said as he exited the elevator. 

The sight of Alfred calmed him down. He wasn't alone, Alfred was there. The man who had stood by his side since the beginning.

"Master Wayne," Alfred peacefully greeted him. Perhaps, things were going better than he had anticipated. 

"How is he?" 

"Doctor Thompkins did all that it was on her hands. However, Master Jason’s injures were complicated, which is why he was transferred to this floor. The good news is that the surgery was successful," Alfred explained and shared with him the papers that Bruce, as the official adoptive parent, had to sign.

"And what's this?" It wasn't like Bruce to be confused, but he wasn't used to losing control either. 

Indeed, it was overwhelming. Bruce sat and listened to Alfred as he explained the procedures Jason had gone through. He registered everything, making small mental notes to what he would research later. 

"Any question you might have, Master Bruce?" 

"May I see him?" he didn't have to ask. Visiting hours were over, but they would make an exception for him. Yet, he asked because, at that moment, he felt uncertain about his decisions. 

"You may," Alfred said dryly.

"But you disagree, why?" 

"Because there is another thing we need to talk about," Alfred said. 

That _thing_ had a name, and it was "Talon." He agreed with Alfred, but he wasn't ready to have that conversation. "I thought you had taken care of that issue."

"I did, but as Talon sleeps, Master Richard is awake, and he deserves an explanation." As usual, Alfred was right. However, sometimes being right wasn't enough. 

“Priorities. First, I need to see Jason. Then we talk about Talon,” Bruce said.

“You bet we will,” that was a promise, one that assured Bruce that Alfred was not going to let this conversation to be forgotten, regardless of what Bruce said.

**[. . .]**

It was a nice room, the best that money could buy. It was the least that he could do for his Robins when they got injured. He couldn’t fix them. He couldn’t put them back together. 

At least, he offered them a safety net, so when they fell, he caught them.

He wouldn’t lie. He didn’t do a good job keeping Dick safe. Two-Face and the Joker had done a number on the first Robin, which was why Bruce had fired him twice.

That was why he hadn't wanted a second Robin to exist. It was a mistake. However, Jason had insisted louder than Dick did, mostly, because Dick hadn’t even asked for permission.

He had thought it was going to work with Jason. He thought he would protect him from his rage and Batman’s enemies. 

He promised himself he would do better with this Robin. This time, Two-Face wouldn’t make Robin pay for Bruce’s mistakes and the Joker wouldn’t have a chance to shoot a Robin.

But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. 

Instead, he overlooked that Talon had power over Dick’s body and mind. He hadn’t yet discovered how the two personalities were able to co-exist. And judging by Jason’s current state, Bruce was running out of time to figure it out. 

He got closer. The kid was sleeping, heavily sedated. He had bandages on his chest, arms and legs. The stabbing had been precise, only hitting the right places to immobilize an opponent and cause internal damage.

It was the type of work done by a professional. A thief in the street would stab you and left a messy trail to track. Instead, trained assassins did clean jobs, leaving no evidence behind except for the demonstration of their sharp skills. 

If Bruce didn’t know Dick had done this, he would have assumed it had been done by the hand of a mature Talon or a member of the League of Shadows.

The knock on the door interrupted his train of thoughts. 

"Master Bruce."  
  
"Yes, Alfred?"

“I shall return to the Manor to check on Master Richard," Alfred said, the voice in a worried tone that caused Bruce’s mind to race in anxious thoughts. 

"What? Why? Isn’t he sedated? Alfred, what happened?" Though there was no chance that Jason would wake up, Bruce lowered his voice, but the features of his face didn’t lie. He was panicking with the possibility of all the things that could have gone wrong in his absence. 

Was Dick okay? Was he hurt too? 

"Master Bruce, slow down," Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, gently leading him to sit. "Master Richard is alright."

"Then, why are you leaving?" He sounded childish, like a petulant child, delivering a midnight tantrum to a tired parent, but he didn’t care. He needed Alfred. 

"I injected him with the formula Master Thomas used on his last Talon," Alfred paused to think. Not even he seemed to like his answer. "I had to apply a second dose. As you know, Master Richard isn’t one easy to take down."

"No, he is not," Bruce smirked proudly for a second or two. Then he realized what Alfred had said, and understood why Alfred looked troubled. 

"My father’s Talons, the three died of medical complications." To be fair, neither Alfred nor he knew exactly why the Talons had died. All they had were the notes that his father left. 

"Irrelevant. They were subjects on his medical research, an experiment must have gone wrong... by mistake, of course," Alfred explained in an attempt to dismissive his worries, but Bruce could tell that even Alfred needed reassurance. That was why he wanted to come back. He wanted to see with his own eyes that Dick was doing fine.

"An error done once is a mistake, Alfred, but three times?" Bruce said dryly.

It wasn’t the first time he wondered what his father’s intentions had been with the Court. In his notes, he said he wanted to end the organization’s operation and save their victims, the Talons. Still, there was something that felt out of place. Even the style in which his father wrote his last notes was _wrong_. 

Perhaps, he was biased by the example of the many mad scientists he had fought as Batman. Perhaps, in his last days, his father had become one of them. Whatever was the truth, he didn’t trust his medicine either his methods. 

"I knew your father, Master Bruce, he was a good man," but a man has many faces, Alfred didn’t say. However, Bruce heard it in his polite silence. 

"Alright, let me know how he’s doing. I’m staying here," Bruce stared at the bed, in which Jason laid down, sleeping calmly. So still, so unlike Jason. The only movement was the slight up and down of his chest when he breathed. "I won’t leave until this little one wakes up."

"Good, Sir, I will see you in the morning," Alfred said and made his way to the door. Though he didn’t leave without saying "I think you have enough company already."

Bruce froze. "She was with me when you called."

"Interesting. She said she had been staying for two days in the Lakehouse with _you_ ," Alfred wasn’t subtle in his disapproval. 

He wanted to ask when had he talk to her, but that was a silly question. Alfred had his ways, and he wouldn’t give them away. 

"She needed a place to stay. I offered her a place in the house. A room for her, not with me," Bruce was perplexed. The fact that Alfred needed clarification for his actions. Outrageous. He knew better than anyone than Bruce would never betray Dick. 

"An advice, Master Bruce. Don't do something good that looks bad and then call it innocence, when it is naivety," were Alfred’s last words for the night. He closed the door behind him and left. 

To have a wise father figure like Alfred was both a blessing and a curse.


	15. How's One to Know?

**Drake Manor. June 11, 00:20 AM.  
**

The only thing Tim could see through the window was rain. Fat drops of rain that fell, covering the city in a wet mantle. 

He was bored; there had been no sign of Batman in days, and neither Robin nor Nightwing had been out patrolling the city. 

He thought he saw Batgirl last night. The red hair was easy to spot even in the darkness of the night. However, she wasn’t _Batman_ ; the grave, dangerous aura that Batman had patented with his presence in lonely rooftops for years. It was he who night stalkers like Tim wanted to see.

The Bat and his birds: the rough, new Robin––who Tim found intriguing––and the night's superstar, Nightwing. The last one whose mere existence dared the moon on who could shine brighter.

At least they all could agree that Nightwing had won the fight more than a couple of times.

He sighed heavily; his tea was getting colder with each minute passing by. It seemed it would be another night with nothing to do. 

He decided to go to bed in a hypocrite act of pretending to clean his sleep schedule. He would play on his phone, but he felt more responsible if he did it on his bed. 

Tim had just one foot under the blankets when he heard voices coming from the hallway, and not only that, there were sounds of baggage and high heels.

The drunk laugh of his mother echoed in the corridor, as his father’s whispers followed her. 

Just because his parents couldn't care less about him, it didn’t make him less curious to see them alive. Tim still needed them, so that the State wouldn’t send him to an orphanage.

That was the benefit for them being a family on paper. For the rest, it was a case of mutual des interest. They didn’t care for him, and Tim had learnt to not care for them too.

He peeked through the hallway; his parents were drunk, dumbly trying to fit the key of their bedroom into the doorknob. 

It was a good excuse for him to make quick conversation, and then, he could come back to sleep. 

"It’s this way, mom," Tim said as he took the key from her hands and successfully opened the door.

"Theodore, you are awake," his father said, purposely using the wrong name.

"It’s Timothy, dad," Tim repressed his need to scream.

"Yes, Jack, we agreed––" his mom tried. _Trying_ was her second name, and _perpetually_ _failing_ her last name.

"I agreed to nothing. It was your mother’s doing, Janet, she chose that horrendous name," his father said as he entered the bedroom and ignored Tim’s angry face.

"I’m still here," Tim said in an attempt to make himself be heard. So naive of him. 

"Nobody asked you to; go back to sleep, Theodore," Jack said as he pushed Janet inside the bedroom, closing the door after her.

For a brief moment, Tim stayed outside his parents’ bedrooms, forehead glued to the door until he started to slip into the dissociation state that helped him cope with their rejection. 

Nothing had changed; his parents still didn’t want him. Certainly, they wouldn’t be pleased if they had to find him sleeping in the corridor later. 

So he hid in his bedroom, under the blankets that covered his shame, wondering what his masked friends were doing. 

* * *

**Wayne Manor. June 11, 02:00 AM.**

Such a blurry view.

His eyes were open, but the mix of brown and pearl colours of the ceiling hadn't looked so foreign to him before. The numbness of his body didn't make things easier either. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to move his fingers. It was like they were made of thatch.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from moving, who in the world had been there? Dick was an expert at stealth as much as he was at identifying people in the shadows. Not just anyone could escape his senses, but then again, he was very much out of his game.

"Sir, I beg you to stay in bed."

That voice. Of course, it was Alfred. Dick didn't have to freak out at least since in his line of work, waking up from an induced nap that had felt a lot like a comma, it was a terrible sign.

Thinking about it, he still didn't know what Alfred had given him to sleep. It was a new mix. "Alfie, what did you give me?" It sounded as if he were blaming Alfred, but he hoped that Alfred would know better than holding against him the words of a confused man.

"Sir, do not make me repeat myself. You have to stay in bed," it was a stern command that contrasted with the soft hand, drawing circles on his back, soothing him.

Finally, his eyes were able to focus on his surroundings. There was not much to see; it was night, and he was in the Master bedroom.

"Where is Bruce? I need to talk to him." Of what he could remember, he knew that he hadn't explained what he had done. What he was going to justify his actions was beyond him. He had no excuse. What he had done was irredeemable, Dick had a responsibility, and it was to talk to Bruce. If he had committed this mistake with any team member, he would have talked to their parent or guardian. However, he was sure that any other parent in the world was easier to talk to in a situation like this one.

"He's going to kill me." It was a figurative speech. Everybody knew that Batman didn't kill, which wasn't the same to say that Batman didn't cause severe damage in his enemies' bodies. 

"Nonsense," Alfred said and patted his back. "Go back to sleep, Master Richard, the morning will bring you clarity."

It was a good idea; Dick felt drowsy, and he wasn't sure he could walk without falling. But even if his body felt heavy, the feeling of apprehension didn't leave him. Though he knew something was wrong, he just couldn't put a name on it. Even Alfred behaved normally around him, sort of cautious as if Dick was a wild animal in captivity.

"I will... I just... How is Jason doing?" Dick asked without daring to look Alfred in the eye.

Alfred didn't reply to his question. Instead, he took his temperature and blood pressure. The silence made Dick even more anxious. He would have cracked a joke if only he could remember one. Why was his brain such a mess?

"So? How am I doing?" Dick asked, hopeful that Alfred would stop ignoring him. "Alfred? Is everything okay?" Dick asked one more time.

"It's alright," Alfred said, but he didn't conceal the concern showing on his face fast enough to go unnoticed.

"Are you sure? You can tell me if something's wrong," Dick insisted raising his voice. Why did the silence of the room sound loud to his ears? Why was Alfred treating him with such wariness? Why was he so angry?

"I asked you what's wrong, answer me, damn it," he screamed in a growl that was uncharacteristic of him.

This was his body, he had a right to know if something wasn't working well. Besides, he needed to scream, he needed to combust, he needed to explode in a million pieces. Fast; to be on fire. Yes, that was what he wanted. And Alfred? He was his only prey in sight.

"Master Richard, let me go now!" Alfred spoke close to his face, forcing him to face him eye to eye. It was easy to hear Alfred and not the white noise when they maintained eye contact. Suddenly, it hit him. Have been Alfred talking to him all this time and he hadn't heard him?

"My arm, Master Richard." Dick didn't doubt that Alfred had the ability to free his arm, but he waited for Dick to notice how hard he was pulling him, and then letting go of him.

Dick recognise the technique. If a person dissociated, it was helpful to bring them back to their present moment by making them aware of their surroundings and what they were doing. In other words, Alfred was trying to help him, even if Dick had proved difficult to reach in his state of trance.

"I'm sorry," Dick murmured as he stared at his hands, making sure they weren't moving in their own accord to strangle Alfred or something worse.

"No need to apologise, Sir. I'm only asking you to cooperate and sleep." If Alfred was angry, he didn't give it away in his voice.

"Who's in patrol?" Dick asked, knowing he wouldn't get an answer. It wasn't about the answer though, it was about staying awake. The idea of sleeping made him less as if he had less control over what was happening to him.

"And where's Bruce?" He continued with his questions. "Is he with Jason? You still haven't told how Jason is doing."

Alfred sighed and accommodated his pillow, the man look done. Dick sympathised with him, and he wanted nothing more than to be nice with Alfred, but all his senses were alerted, reassuring him that there was a danger hiding in the shadows.

"They're in the hospital," Alfred whispered, obviously disclosing information he wasn't keen in sharing. And for that, Dick said: "Thanks," and grinned, "Batman told you to keep me in the dark."

They looked at each other for a second as a small confirmation of his assumption. Nonetheless, what cleared his doubts was the pinch he felt on his neck. Another injection to force him to sleep.

"And you do as he says," Dick chuckled painfully. It sounded rather like he was crying. "Bloody Bats, this is..." His tongue was numb, he couldn't talk. He wanted to say that this family was like a live-action of a terror book.

"Sleep well, Master Richard." Small mercies. Even if the eeriest times, Alfred was an example of politeness.

* * *

**Hospital. June 11, 4:30 AM.**

One pierced lung, four broken ribs, plus one broken leg. It seemed almost impossible that simple sparring between Dick and Jason could have ended in such a disaster, even if Talon had been involved.

Bruce didn’t believe a word the doctor had said until he saw the tape of the fight his boys had; It was effortless to get the cameras' files of the Batcave as Bruce came prepared with his tech. And since Jason was heavily sedated, he had had all the night to analyse what had happened when he was gone. 

It was a routine task to check if the doctor had missed any potential injuries. The first ten minutes, he almost convinced himself that it would be easy, but in minute eleven, his nightmare began.

Bruce knew Jason liked to pretend he was confident, even if underneath his fake armour, there was a rawness that begged to be loved and accepted. It appeared that Dick had noticed too as he disregarded Jason's teasing that clearly aimed to hurt his feelings.

As for Bruce, he wasn't ignorant that this behaviour had happened before. He had watched other tapes, and he had tried to talk to Dick, but he refused to ask for help. Besides, he was invariably evasive when Bruce asked questions on how the training was going on. Maybe this was Bruce's fault for not doing an intervention before things got this critical. However, it wasn't as if Dick had made it less complicated on him either. The cost of asking how things were between Dick and Jason was an inevitable fight, and Bruce had been too selfish to abandon the serene state of his relationship with Dick.

Yet, not even in minute twenty Jason had said something so wrong that could justify Dick turning into Talon. He needed to know if Jason had done something that triggered Dick, and no, he wasn't victim-blaming Jason. He was researching an answer he didn't want to find. The issue was that if Jason hadn't triggered Dick, and Talon had awoken by his own will, Bruce wouldn't have an idea on how to control Talon that didn't involve actions he was ashamed of even considering.

In minute twenty-five, he got his answer.

_"That's all you got, bro?" Jason smirked, proud and unaware that Dick was letting him win in purpose. Bruce knew this tactic. He could anticipate how Dick would use his legs to push Jason and turn them over until Jason was the one lying on the floor._

_It was a friendly tactic, no need for stabbing._

_"Kinda sloppy, uh? How did they use to call you? Wonder Boy? Dude, you're more like the Blunder Boy." Jason was having fun for sure, so much fun that he let his guard down. It was a good moment to attack, but Dick didn't. Instead, he snorted and half-smiled. Definitely, that wasn't the smile of an assassin._

_"You speak too much, and lose focus for that. Look at your feet and knees. This is a bad position to banter. Just feel your knees, Jay, you're hurting them, and that will make you slower for your next moves. Once you initiated a physical fight, forget the banter unless you have full awareness of your body's position, alright?" Dick's voice was calm. One could say he was rather patient. "Let's start again."_

_"God, you're so boring," Jason rolled his eyes but followed Dick's order. "No wonder why he replaced you."_

_"Excuse me?" Dick said as he stood up, holding a knife with his right hand. "What did you just said?"  
_

"Oh." Sure, Bruce knew Dick didn't handle well sharing his mantle, but he had thicker skin than this, right?

_"I said that he replaced you with a better Robin," Jason dramatically touched his chest, "And you know why? Because you're old, slow and boring, also kinda ugly but I guess not everyone can be perfect."_

Bruce snorted as he glimpsed at Jason, who was in a deep sleep. For an outsider like Bruce, who knew that Jason had had a crush on the first Robin, Jason's words felt flat and harmless. Certainly, he was trying to catch Dick's attention in the only way he knew how. 

_Dick exhaled heavily and stretched his neck. His eyes looked darker, making it look as if he were trying to concentrate._

_"One more time. More fighting, less talking," Dick had a poker face as he spoke. For what Bruce knew, he was probably trying to hide his anger and kept it professional. It wasn't a bad decision, but it was unlike Dick to behave that way. The acrobat could keep his anger at bay and still had a bright, mildly wicked smile on his face._

_"Alright, Goldie, or should I say Oldie?" Jason said, and Dick knocked him down with a single motion. It was a rough impact, but not ill-intentioned. This person was still Dick._

_"What the fuck, dude?" Jason snarked. "At least, give me the green light that we'd started."_

_And by then, it looked like Dick was already losing his patience as he lifted Jason--in a rough manner--by his shirt collar. "If you aren't going to listen to me, just say so, so I don't have to lose my time training a basket case."_

"There he is... still Dick." This less nice side of Dick, one that was prone to abrupt anger, and one that Bruce knew well. Really, who didn't have anger issues in the hero community? It was part of the resume to spend your days and nights fighting crime. Besides, Bruce was quite good at containing Dick when he was crossing a line. On the other hand, Jason had no idea how dangerous Dick truly was. He hid in plain sight with his charm and pretty face, making everyone believed that he was just a lucky himbo. Even some heroes had fallen for his disguise until they had seen him in action.

_"Let go of me!" Jason demanded like a child, forgetting that he had the training to set himself free. Bruce would comment on that later, but for now, all he noticed was that Dick wasn't letting him go._

_"Make me." It came as a dare and Bruce would have been fine with it if Dick hadn't added that: "Show me that you're more than just the thief that Batman picked up from the streets."_

To be fair, Bruce knew where Dick was coming from. He was pushing Jason to raise above his attitude, and if Jason had been the protegeé of any other hero, Bruce would have approved. But this one was Jason, his Robin, so no, he disapproved.

_It worked, though. Jason's training kicked in, and with two swift and stylish movements, he was free. Even Dick saw how good he was. "Good," he said and nodded slightly._

_But Jason was having none of his approval. "You know what? Screw you," Jason shook his head, "I'm a street rat but if it wasn't for me--that I asked Bruce for you to train me--where would you be? He might as well have forgotten you."_

"Well, he stabbed you first in that old wound," though it wasn't an excuse for what had occurred, Bruce had to admit that Jason was good at looking through people. 

The first Robin's skin wasn't that thick when he felt the closeness to his worst nightmares. To be forgotten by the ones he loved. To be an old story, that there used to be a Robin who stood by Batman's side, but then he was nothing. Just a meaningless memory that no one cared to remember. 

_Dick said nothing to Jason because Dick wasn't there anymore. He breathed heavily as his olive skin looked paler and paler each second that passed by. His skin wasn't lighter, but it seemed dead. And the veins of his face turned blue and golden. Swiftly, the veins were full of what Bruce wanted to believe was blood. The prominent veins connected to his eyes, and his bright, baby blue eyes turned golden too._

_Bruce had seen Talons before, he had even fought them, but they were all already transformed when he had met them. Even he had to admit that something was mystifying about the transformation._

_The fascination lasted short; what happened next was unbearable to watch. It took Talon less than three minutes to take down Jason to his knees and make him beg. Besides the bloody visuals, the hardest part was listening to his son pleading for Dick to stop._

_"Dude, I was joking," he tried at first._

_"What the hell, Dick?" he said to deaf ears._

_"I'm sorry, okay? You win--fuck, why did you--" the pain of the stab wound shut him up._

_Talon broke his leg, and Jason screamed._

Nothing that Bruce hadn't seen in the field before, nothing that he hadn't done to a criminal, and yet, he had to stop the video for a few seconds.

_"Please, don't, don't--" he was sobbing._

He stopped the video for a second time. Repeating his mind that: This is Talon, this person is Talon; Dick would never hurt Jason like this. He is Talon, not Dick.

_Another wrenching scream, more babbling asking for help, and then, "Bru--Bruce..."_

_Jason said his name and Talon stopped._

He stopped.

_Ten seconds later, Alfred came, running hastily to intervene. He screamed: "Master Richard!" It looked like as if Alfred's voice was the reason Talon ceased his attack._

"But he stopped for me." His realization didn't make things less unsettling.

_Once Dick was in control of his brain again, his eyes, face and skin turned back to normal. However, he looked disoriented. His mind was having a hard time grasping what had just happened. It was also clear that his body had trouble handling the transformation as he stumbled and fell gracelessly, no signs of his acrobatic training.  
_

It was good. Dick was still there, and he had stopped. Yet it was terrible for the same reason. Dick was still there, and he wasn’t alone, Talon was with him.

Bruce didn’t have the stomach to watch the tape again. Not tonight. He couldn’t even think of patrol or what he would do the next time he would see Dick. 

He took another look at Jason sleeping, still unconscious and covered in bandages. God, no, Bruce couldn’t take this. He couldn’t lose him like he had lost his parents. 

All his life, he had spent all his existence trying to save Gotham, and somehow it wasn’t enough––it was never enough––he was still losing people, _his_ people.

**[. . .]**

Alfred called him on the phone. It was a call Bruce replied merely in courtesy; he wasn't in the right mindset to have a conversation. Though if there was someone who could understand what Bruce was going through, that person was Alfred. 

"Sir," Alfred said in a calm voice. 

"Agent A, report," Bruce said dryly. In matter likes this, there was no need to pretend that they weren't acting under a red code.

"Master Richard is sleeping. I hope the dose I administrated was sufficient to keep him unconscious until late morning," Alfred was methodical, he gave nothing away. But Bruce needed to know all the details: How much did he give to Dick? How well was he responding to the substance? Had Talon made another attempt to surface?

"And Talon?"

"Sleeping as well--how is Master Jason?" Alfred inquired with a tight voice.

"He's a tough one, he'll survive," Bruce said, fast and detached, avoiding to let his emotions take over him as Jason was far from okay.

"It's _that_ bad," Alfred as usual, he was proficient translating what Bruce failed to say.

"Dick came back stronger after the Two-Face's incident, I don't see why Jason can't," Bruce said, nearly believing his hopeful words.

"Master Richard was never a normal boy, Master Bruce." Another bad habit Alfred had, he had the ability to speak the thoughts Bruce refuse to acknowledge.

Bruce said nothing and Alfred absolved him from facing reality. It was too soon for Bruce to admit that he had been an arrogant fool by training another Robin, without considering the rare case that the first Robin had been. He wasn't ready to say aloud that a part of him--a resentful and revengeful part--had been trying to prove that Dick was replaceable and not that special.

The origin had been a spiteful fight between two stranged lovers. One that did his best to hurt the another to destroy whatever love was left among them. However, after the fight was over, Bruce didn't feel remorse for his past decisions. He had been selfish and vindictive, but those actions led him to meet Jason. He wouldn't have a son if it weren't for those bitter years.

Furthermore, against all the odds, Jason became a fantastic partner in crime. He was another type of Robin, which was expected since he was a whole different person. But beyond that, he was his son, and that mattered the most. 

"There's another issue," Alfred cleared his voice.

"Yes, Alfred, what's on your mind?" 

"By reading Master Thomas' journals, it has come to my awareness that Talons and Owls share a peculiar bond," Bruce grunted for Alfred to continue. "Sir, the bond between Master Richard and you has always been quite rare."

"I'm not following," he lied with a tight knot struggling on his throat. Had he noticed before? The answer, either yes or not, would be weak. Whatever had united them, their respective parents' death or the war they fought together, or the unwanted legacy of bonds and curses of the Court. It didn't matter as they were bonded in ways beyond the human's understanding. Has it been Faith or a detailed plan designed by unknown forces? Still, it didn't change how they felt about each other.

"Self-denial is the death of the fools, Sir; He comes from a bloodline of Talons, and you come from a bloodline of Owls. Has your brilliant mind understood what I'm saying, Sir?" Alfred's words were a cocktail of sarcasm and concern that went right straight to Bruce's bloodstream. 

"I understand, but what we have is real--"

"I wouldn't _ever_ deny that. But Sir, you have to see that you might have more control over him than you realise," Alfred explained.

"I understand what you're saying, but I don't think he would ever forgive me if I ever do that." He wouldn't forgive himself, either. Dick celebrated his freedom. He thrived in exercising his feel will.

Long ago, Bruce had tried to chain him, and in doing so, he hurt him. His bird was happier and more beautiful when he was free from any restriction, and in that trust, Dick always came back to him.

"He won't forgive you either if you let him hurt someone he loves--I'm not asking you to tie him evermore. The opposite, I'm asking you to stop him, so he hears the truth from you and then, he can make his choices."

"I hate when you're right."

"So do I, Sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate kudos, comments, subscriptions 😜


	16. Life Doesn’t Stop For Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The skeletons in the closet are (slowly) coming out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used a Downtown Abbey reference (shamelessly) for Alfred xD

**So long ago in the Wayne Manor.  
**

Alfred was a servant, loyal and traditional, he had been trained under the highest standards of the old English Crawley House in Downtown Abbey.

Therefore, at his core, he knew better than to judge his Masters. It was a betrayal to commit judgement as it was to take sides during his Masters' fights. 

Nevertheless, standing up in the Master Thomas' studio next to his new acquisition, it was nearly impossible not to make an exception and side with Mistress Martha. 

"Thomas, why is there a new Talon in our house?" Martha inquired with a tight tone that failed to conceal her anger. 

"Stay here, I'll be back soon," Master Thomas said, looking at Talon. Slightly, she nodded with no expression on her face and no light in her golden eyes. "You may sit if you want" Master Thomas offered, making Mistress Thomas snort and Alfred almost lost his composture.

If you want he said as if Talons had any other will than their Masters' will. 

"Alfred, will you be so kind--please, make her company," Master Tomas requested as Mistress Martha chuckled and said sarcastically: "Just don't speak too loud, folks, you might wake up my Bruce."

Contained, Alfred repressed a laugh. What a humouristic thought, a Talon speaking what they got in their mind. 

The Master left the studio but they didn't go as far as Alfred thought they would. It seemed they were close as he was capable of hearing everything they were saying.

An honourable butler like him had no business listening to their conversations. In England, he could have never done such a thing. However, here in America, Alfred had discovered that some unusual exceptions must be made to protect the house he served. 

"Martha, I don't think you grasp the impact of what I'm doing here," Master Thomas said, contradicting his wife. An unwise young man he was. 

"What exactly is that that I don't understand? Two Talons died under your care! How many more, Thomas? How many is enough for you to stop? We had an agreement: No more Talons--You are deep lost in your medical arrogance, Thomas, and you might have no one else to call you out and stop you besides me. This family that we built, you're putting all of us in danger, but you don't see it." Mistress Martha didn't disappoint, she could see the same thing that Alfred was seeing. 

"I need to do this, Martha, I need to stop them. The legacy of my family is at stakes. They were part of the founders of the Court, and now it's on me to stop them for good." Master Thomas had a point, but it wasn't as strong as Mistress Martha's reasoning. 

"They might hurt us--think about our child," she said.

"I will protect us," Master Thomas said. He had the right sentiment, but Alfred begged to differ. How was he going to protect his family from the Court?

The silence that followed was untranslatable. Alfred was left with nothing else but make assumptions of what else they had discussed, at least, until his Masters' return.

Only Master Thomas came back.

"Alfred, I here introduce you to my cousin, Miss Esther Kane, also," he cleared his throat, "my new Talon." 

"Sir," Alfred said, baffled by the news. It wasn't his place to ask for an explanation, but he was eager to break the rules and demand Master Thomas to have some common sense. 

"She is with us by her own will--I trust you with the arrangements of her stay," Master Thomas said quite calm for a man who was offering a relative to a lost cause. 

"Will Miss Kane live in the Cave as the other two Talons did?" Alfred asked, still baffled. 

"Yes, give her the same room," Master Thomas said, taking aback Alfred. He was certain that he would make an exception for family. 

"I know what you're thinking, Alfred, and I understand. But my cousin here, she's been brainwashed by the vile scum ruling the Court-I fear I don't know how deep the brainwashing is, and Bruce is only five, he can't defend himself," Master Thomas explained, finally showing a little concern. 

Alfred had fought in the war, and if he had learnt something it was that a commander without fear, it was a commander who had nothing lose, and therefore, one that wasn't wise to follow. As long as Master Thomas showed concern for losing his loved ones, Alfred could sleep soundly at night. 

"The Cave will be, Sir," Alfred replied. "Is there any other precaution I should take to protect Master Bruce?"

"Oh no, don't worry. Talons are invisible like shadows in the night, you don't notice them unless you're a trained Owl. But if Bruce notices her," he smiled proudly, "then perhaps he's a natural Owl." 

* * *

**Manor. June 11, 13:00.**

[Recording voicemail: Hey Roy, it's me, Dick! I've been trying to contact you all day--are you out on a space mission or what? Stupid question, right, if you're not on Earth, how are you going to pick up your phone? Fuck, man, I'm in trouble and I need your help--there's something weird going on here, I feel like Alfred is keeping me captive in the Manor and Bruce doesn't answer his phone *silence* I don't know, I might be paranoid, just call me back, okay?]

Dick ended the call and kept on pacing on the Master bedroom's balcony. He only stopped for a second to check that nobody had entered the bedroom.

He might be paranoid but he might as well be right. After all, Dick had attacked Jason, even if it was unintentional, it was so like Bruce to categorised him as a danger, as a walking red flag.

"Damn it, Bruce, what can't you just talk to me?"

If Bruce didn't want to talk to him, then Dick would push him to face him. All he had to was to find where he was, and luckily for him, even Bruce had trackers on his body.

* * *

**Hospital. June 11, 17:00.**

"You're still here," Bruce said as Selina entered the room, sitting in the chair closest to him, but without looking at Jason's unconscious body. 

"Where would you want me to go? I'm telling you there's a war outside and mob bosses are falling, and this Cat ain't dying tonight," she rested her feet on the edge of Jason's bed.

"Can you just not--your shoes are dirty," Bruce said. 

It bothered him and it shouldn't. Selina had never liked kids; she hadn't liked Dick, but she had tolerated Robin. She had tied him, and probably, she had tried to sell him once or twice to Ivy, but never to the Joker. Also, she bought ice cream for him once. 

No, Selina didn't like kids. 

She rolled her eyes, "It's not like he's awake to notice."

She didn't like hospitals either. However, he really couldn't blame her for the lack of support as she had been honest since the first day.

_"I don't do relationships, and I think monogamy is a joke, and I hate kids, what about that, Bat?" She had told him after their first kiss.  
_

Yet, showing sympathy for an old friend wasn't supposed to be such a challenging task. 

"So are we going back to the Manor tonight? I need a shower," she said with aloofness. It was a simple request, but Bruce was starting to get irritated. 

They were nothing, really, just old friends, who had grown apart and barely had something in common these days. But she was here and Dick wasn't. 

It wasn't the right time to call Dick for the support he would deny to need, but Dick knew him better than anyone else. Dick would know that Bruce was blaming himself for what happened to Jason. Dick would know that Bruce wished he could have been there to save him. Dick would understand.

But he wasn't there. 

"You can't go back to the Manor with me," Bruce replied. 

She was taken aback by his answer, looking at him with old anger, the one she guarded for him after their last tumultuous breakup. "Why not? I told you my life was in danger!"

"You're overreacting, there's no one out there to get you, Selina, and don't you have men for your protection?"

"Yes, but they are not Batman and they can't--" she chuckled mockingly, "they are useless against the League of Shadows or the Court."

"You may have a point," Bruce conceded. His code didn't allow him to let anyone die without, at least, trying to help them. And even if he was still mad for the way Selina had abandoned him, citing irreparable damage from an absence partner, Bruce couldn't deny that he still cared for her. 

It wasn't love anymore, was it? But he wouldn't allow anyone to come closer just so they could hurt her. Despite this, Dick came first.

"You can't stay in the Manor, your presence might affect my partner's sensibilities," Bruce said.

"Whoa! Is he that good sucking cock? He got you all pussy-whipped," she laughed in fake amusement. The tight furrow of her eyebrows didn't lie, she wasn't pleased with his answer. "Is this what you do now, Bruce? You let this nobody manipulate you--are you going through some mid-life crisis?"

Of course, she was ignorant of the identity of this so-called nobody.

"He isn't a nobody--He," Bruce cleared his throat. "He doesn't manipulate me, not like you used to. I took this decision by myself--he doesn't even know you're here." 

And oh, wasn't that a wrong thing to say?

She smirked satisfied. "You didn't tell him we were here together, I bet you he doesn't even know we spent time in the Lake House alone. Oh, darling, how nice of you, sparing him from the truth that he's your second choice."

He could play her game, and he could win. He had all the cards, but was it worth it? With Jason hurt and Dick hanging on a thin line of going mad, whatever game Selina was playing, she could play it alone.

"Here are the keys to the Penthouse," Bruce gave them to her. "The place is safe, it has high-security, and it's connected to the Manor. If something happens to you, I'll know."

"I can't believe you," She stared at the keys on her hand, puzzled by what was happening. And then she looked at him with genuine confusion and a small hint of sadness. "Not even Silver or Talia were enough to keep your attention away from me, what's so special about him?"

To begin with, Bruce was happy. Not that Bruce was a person accustomed to the concept of happiness. There was a time in his life in which he had though happiness and love were things made for children and books. If only he hadn't been a terrible case of stubborn and guilt before; With Dick things were easy. He didn't have to lie, he didn't have to be someone else. Dick had met him halfway where Bruce had been wandering lost, and then he took his hand, even when Bruce wasn't sure he deserved all the loved Dick gave to him.

"Everything," Bruce said.

**[. . .]**

Bruce had planned to avoid Dick for a few days until he came with a plausible explanation on why he had retained crucial information from him. 

He knew his little bird, he wasn't going to listen, which was the same reason why he hadn't told him anything before; Dick was a skilled strategist as long as his emotions weren't compromised. And in this case, that involved the Graysons' family in such close proximity, it was nearly impossible to ask Dick to remain calm.

Nonetheless, life was rarely the result of a detailed plan. Instead, life was made of fated accidents and hard choices. Be it as it may, there were things that not even Batman could control and one of them was the tenacious force that Dick Grayson was.

At the opposite side of the corridor in which Bruce was standing, the elevator opened and the sight of Dick messed with everything Bruce had planned. 

Bruce breathed deeply, easing the restlessness of his heart beating. He knew what needed to be done. He would have to be stern, firm and cold. He could be quick too as it would be merciful to finish with this business immediately. 

Bruce wished doing what he had planned was as easy as it was in his head.

It never was. 


	17. Can’t Think of All The Cost

**Hospital. June 11, 10:00 PM.**

Dick was the face of remorse.

Radiating a haunting aura, he stepped out of the elevator and walked fast to where Bruce was standing. As for Bruce, he remained where he was, unsettled and troubled. He had gone out for a walk in the corridor. He was pacing in an effort to stay awake after having little no sleep and watching over Jason.

"Bruce," Dick said his name, just three steps away from reaching him.

"Bruce, I’m sorry," his eyes were irritated red. How long had he been crying? 

"I can explain," could he? "I know what it looks like––"

Bruce knew that much, but he said nothing. He continued to stare at him as Dick reached for his cheek, cupping it softly with his hand and rubbing his thumb.

"I’m sorry," he choked on his words.

His apologies made things more real: Dick really had sent Jason to the hospital. He really almost––

"He could’ve died," Bruce whispered, freezing Dick to a shattering building built with bricks of guilt.

_No, no. Dick hadn’t wanted to hurt Jason. It was Talon who did it. Talon, not Dick._

"I know, and I’m so, so, deeply sorry, I swear," his hand left Bruce’s face to touch his chest. "You know me, you know I would never––" The sobbing didn’t let Dick finish his words as he hid his shame in Bruce’s broad chest, refusing to look up and confront Bruce. 

"Please," Dick insisted, but Bruce was petrified. Stalling on choosing what to say. 

He hadn’t moved to push Dick away either to hold him. He couldn’t because if he did, he would have to feel something. And at that moment, Bruce wasn’t sure if what he could feel wouldn’t start a bigger fight between them. 

"You should leave," Bruce whispered, resting his chin on Dick's head. "Come back to the Manor. Alfred must be worried."

Then Dick finally looked to him in the eye; he looked betrayed. Of course, Dick was smart, a true detective in nature. He would have known by now that Bruce had asked Alfred to keep him sedated. 

"You did it again," Dick said, a plain grimace on his face. 

There it was. Dick could forgive him but never forget. 

"It’s not like before," because it wasn’t. This time Bruce wasn’t trying to put trackers inside Dick. It wasn't possessiveness and vanity. Instead, it was a matter of based solely on the safety of the family. 

"I told you it was my body––you have to ask for permission––you can’t just––" Dick said, clenching his fists and breathing faster. A rush of blood covered his face, but it didn’t last. Soon his skin was olive pale, just like Talon. 

_So it is anger that triggers him._

Bruce had been wrong. Talon was already awake; Dick and he were awake simultaneously, meaning Talon was there with them, listening and waiting to rise again.

"Dick," Bruce said with caution, "breath, focus on your breathing."

"Don’t change the topic. I’m breathing perfectly fine!" Dick screamed, or at least, Bruce thought the one screaming was still Dick.

"No, you are not," Bruce touched his shoulders with both hands, massaging them slowly. "Look at me and look how I breathe," Bruce said as he slowed down his breathing, just enough for Dick to follow his breathing pattern.

Instead of calming him down, Dick lost control, and Talon snapped.

"Don’t tell me what to do," he growled with furious, golden eyes. "No one tells me what to do!"

Bruce had encountered dangerous enemies and expert assassins, but Talon was deadly fast. He hardly saw coming how he pulled out a sharp knife from his jacket to stab him.

But even for a Talon, it was hard to fool the Bat.

Bruce pushed Dick back and blocked the direct attack to his chest. 

"No," Dick pleaded, recovering the control of his body. Dick looked terrified, but Bruce didn’t understand why until he looked in the direction that Dick was looking at. 

He was too used to pain that he didn’t notice that Talon had wounded his upper arm; It wasn’t a deep wound. It was barely a scratch compared to what Batman went through every night.

"No, shit, no––," Dick cried and dropped the knife, taking his hand to his mouth. "I don’t know what happened, I––Why would I hurt you?" Dick was scared. The way his body shook, the shock on his now blue eyes.

Truly, Dick didn’t know what he was doing.

"It’s alright, chum," Bruce said softly. "It’s nothing, see?" Bruce showed him the wounded side of his arm. The ruined cloth had taken the impact, as Bruce only had a superficial scratch with a few drops of blood. "It doesn’t hurt."

"Dick," he insisted, softly rubbing his lover's neck.

Dick didn’t react. He was paralyzed. Whatever was going in his mind, it couldn’t be good. Dick tended to blame himself for everything. It was a tendency that Bruce knew well, as he suffered from the same self-punishing mentality. And considering the damage Dick had caused to Jason and now his loss of control with Bruce, his mind must be a torturous place to be in. 

"Hey, come here," Bruce took his hand and led him to the closest room.

Once they were inside, Bruce tried communicating with him, but it was impossible to reach him through his mental walls. Neither Talon nor Dick was answering.

The shock might have caused him to disassociate. Or it could be a coping mechanism for Talons. Or maybe, Dick was fighting Talon for control. There were many options, and Bruce didn’t know which one was right. 

It was his worst-case scenario coming true: Even if they were together, Bruce still couldn’t help him. He was useless, ignorant on how to support him. And if there was something Bruce despised, it was the bitterness of futility. 

"Dick," Bruce said his name, hoping it would stir something inside him. "You have to fight back. You are stronger than _him._ " 

But Dick barely moved. 

Bruce tried to find words of encouragement, but his mind went blank. He had terrible timing with words. Usually, Dick was the one who filled the blanks for him. 

Meaningful words were hard to convey. Besides, Bruce hoped that Dick knew how he felt about him by now. He had no words, but he had shown him, wishing it was enough to clarify Dick’s doubts.

So he helped Dick sit in the hospital bed, and he sat in front of him, waiting for a reaction. If someone were watching them, they would wonder who was more still, Bruce or Talon. 

Half of an hour went by. "This isn’t working. You are not even trying," Bruce said, and Dick shook. He looked annoyed, but at least, he was reacting to what he was saying.

Anger was a useful emotion for people like them, who had to stay motivated to fight every night. However, Dick had found in the feeling of anger a loyal friend to keep him alive. It meant to him what regret meant to Bruce.   
  
Nonetheless, all emotions served a purpose. And if Bruce had wanted to avenge his parents' death to deliver punishment on their murderer, Dick’s purpose was to prove that he was right. He had been right when he said his parents’ death hadn’t been an accident, and he was right when he chose to protect others. 

"You were right," he said aloud, and Dick’s eyes glowed. They weren’t full blue yet, but Dick was still _there_. 

"I should ask for your permission when I––" Bruce cleared his throat. Saying Dick was right implied that he had been wrong, which wasn’t a simple thing to digest.

"Though sometimes it’s necessary to insert devices inside your body, I should ask for permission first," Bruce added and, Dick grimaced with his mouth, and he tried to speak, but it wasn’t back in his power yet.

"But you were right," Bruce confirmed again as he saw Dick struggling to move his arms.

And what Bruce said next, well, those were some words he hadn’t planned ever saying aloud unless he was given truth serum. But sometimes, he had to push himself beyond his limitations to save his loved ones.

"You were right about the Robin issue. It was your mantle. I should have asked for your permission before giving it to someone else." He took a deep breath and let the last bit of truth out. "And yes, at first, I was trying to hurt you. I wanted to hurt your pride––your mantle design, your family colours, the Graysons’ last name." 

As the words left his mouth, the tight knot on his throat felt less suffocating. Bruce was a man of many secrets. He hid everything of who he really was. He had been wearing disguises for so long that he had forgotten how satisfying it was telling the truth. 

And since Dick hadn’t interrupted him, he went on with his confession. 

"I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, but I think I made the right decision by making Jason Robin. I won’t apologize for that, but" he put his hand on Dick’s knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "You weren’t paranoid, part of me did want to hurt you."

No reaction yet. 

Bruce sighed and waited. Thinking about it, his detective mind was onto something. Why had Dick dissociated by attacking him and not Jason? The effect was strongly different. Dick had been shocked by what he did to Jason, but he hadn't turned into a rag doll, as he did when he attacked Bruce.   
  
What was the difference? 

_Think, Bruce. Think._

Dick belong to a long, almost royal bloodline of Talons, and Bruce was the heir of one of the families who founded the Court in Gotham. But Jason? He was unrelated to the Court’s businesses as far as Bruce knew. 

_Perhaps... if the Talon in him, if he sees me as an Owl..._

"Come back, Dick," he said his real name, even though calling him Talon probably would work better. But there was no way that Bruce would call him his Talon. No, that was a path he was unwilling ever to take.

"I’m not mad," he added. However, it was a white lie as he was, indeed, angry. But if Talons feared their Masters’ wrath, then Dick wouldn’t want to come back unless he knew there was no danger waiting for him.

A little more time and finally, Dick touched the hand he had on his knee. 

"Dick," Bruce took his hand and checked his pulse. "Are you alright?"

"B," he said and hugged him. "I missed you." He had been gone only for a few days, but of course, Dick had missed him. "It was boring without you."

Bruce snorted at that. He doubted he was highly entertaining for a talkative person like Dick.

"Jason’s bantering wasn’t enough entertainment for you?" He teased. 

Dick shook when he heard Jason’s name. 

"Jason, oh God, Jason," Dick looked at him, once again in panic. "That was why I came here. I hurt––But how did I get here? Did Alfred drive me here?" Dick was perplexed, looking at Bruce as if he had the answer. Thank God for his poker face, or he would have shown how alarming it was that Dick had a memory loss.

"I don’t think he did," Bruce said calmly, "but I’ll call him, and he’ll take you home." Bruce stood up fast to go to another room and call Alfred, only that he was interrupted by Dick before he could get to the door.

"Hey, what happened to your arm?" When Bruce turned to see his face, Dick looked genuinely confused. That was dangerous; Dick had attacked him, and he didn't remember doing it.

"You don’t remember what happened?" Bruce asked. All his attention focused on reading Dick's body language. All that he got was confusion and doubt.

"I don't--" He hesitated. "Did I do that? Did I?" Before Bruce could soothe him, Dick had already stood up and walked to him. "Bruce, I need you to listen to me, let me explain--"

"There's nothing to explain. It wasn't your fault--Let me call Alfred, he will take you back to the Manor, and we will talk later." He was dodging the conversation, and Dick, who knew him very well, he knew it too. To his bad luck, Dick wasn't a person who let things go.

"No, stop right there!" Dick closed the door and pushed away Bruce's hand from the doorknob. "I don't know what's happening to me, I don't know why I attacked Jason and why I did the same to you, but that's no me, okay? Look at me," Dick took Bruce's face with both of his hands, tip-toeing a little to be on the same eye to eye level. "I feel like I'm going fucking crazy, and you are not listening, it's like I'm talking to a wall!"

"Dickie--" Bruce's eyes softened, but it wasn't what Dick wanted. To be honest, he wasn't sure what to do to calm him down.

"Don't--Don't pity me. Get angry, scream at me, punch me, but don't pity me," Dick said as he let go of his head, but Bruce caught his arms, grabbing them as he leaned down to kiss him. He deepened the kiss, taking Dick's legs with both of his hands so that he could lock his legs around his waist.

"I'm sorry," Dick said between kisses. 

"You don't need to apologise," Bruce said, sitting down in the bed with Dick on his lap. 

"But I--" 

"Shut up," Bruce didn't want to hear Dick's apologies. First, because no apologies would amend the critical state in which Jason was. And second, because it was Bruce's fault that Dick thought he wanted to punch him. 

One thing was to spar, and another--very different--thing was to punch him just for the sake of taking his fury on him. Nowadays, Bruce knew better than to lay a hand on his loved ones, but back then, when Dick was younger, he didn't. 

The once heated kisses became sloppier, but not less loving, as time went by, consuming them. 

"Hey," Dick said on top of his lips, breathing him. 

"Better?" Bruce said to be sure, but Dick looked calmer. His blue eyes were dilatated, and there was no trace of dark golden light behind them. His skin wasn't deadly cold either. 

Talon was gone, for now. 

For a while, they stay together like that; Dick held onto Bruce's back and laid his head on the crook of his shoulder.

"Just to clear the air," Bruce whispered, close to Dick's ear, "I won't hit you, even if you are intolerable sometimes--not unless it's self-defence." 

Dick snorted lightly and kissed the side of his head. "It's sort of funny... I mean, it's not. But I just--you know what I did, and I don't think I deserve your half-apology for hitting me when you were mind-controlled."

Bruce sighed. It was like hearing himself talk. They were so different and yet so similar. They were always justifying the injustices made on them as an exception since they deserved it. 

"The first time it was due to mind control, but the second--"

"The second, you were the intolerable one, shutting me out to not help you, so I hit you first," Dick clarified. 

"Alright, but the third time..." 

"Yeah, you shouldn't have done that, but I take your apology if you promise me--if you--" Dick shrank, holding him tighter. "Promise me that you'll try--you'll make it through what I did."

"That's an unfair request, Dick, this soon..." Bruce looked at him sideways, calculating how much Dick could take right now. Sincerely, Bruce had planned to ask him to stay in another bedroom, but he could see that Dick would take that as rejection. 

Though the proximity between them was a dangerous thing, it was hard not to see Talon in Dick's frame as long as Jason remained hurt.

"I'm aware, but I can be selfish too, when it's about you, us," Dick whispered into his ear, knowing damn well he was making him shiver. 

"I'll see," Bruce said and kissed his cheek. Talon inhabited Dick's body, and he was the assassin who had dared to hurt his son. And damned would be his punishing instincts if they weren't on alert when Dick was so close. However, it was all Talon's fault for choosing Dick, who had a body that fitted perfectly on his arms. 

"I'm aware, but I can be selfish too, when it's about you, us," Dick whispered into his ear, knowing damn well he was making him shiver. 

"I'll see," Bruce said and kissed his cheek. Talon inhabited Dick's body, and he was the assassin who had dared to hurt his son. And damned would be his punishing instincts if they weren't on alert when Dick was so close. However, it was all Talon's fault for choosing Dick, who had a body that fitted perfectly on his arms. 

"You have to give me something more reassuring," Dick chuckled dryly, unmistakably unamused by his answer.

"Ask later, Dick," Bruce said what hurt less. 

But here he came, Dick the stubborn. He defied him with his eyes--it wasn't Talon--it was the natural fire on Dick's eyes that ignited Bruce's insides with fondness and desire. 

"No, you tell me now where we stand. You owe to me because I'm your lover, and damn it, Bruce, you are not easy to love," Dick demanded, furrowing his eyebrows and nose. He even looked cute, adorable. It split Bruce between wanting to kiss him or scream at him. 

If Dick wanted honesty, then he could have it.

"I have a kid with pierced lung and a broken leg in intensive care, not even mentioning who put him there, and you are asking me where we stand, Dick, do you even hear yourself?" The iciness of his berating's voice cut through Dick, who gulped. 

The truth hurt more. 

Dick recoiled and said nothing. He looked down and patted Bruce's chest, he hummed something like, "Got it." 

Barely a few took Bruce's icy anger without fear or crying. A few employeés had left his office in whimpers when he wasn't even trying to be strict. 

On the other hand, Dick was used to his intimidating voice. Yet, it pained him to admit that Dick was right. They were partners, lovers. Bruce couldn't be this cold even if the circumstances were beyond displeasing. 

"We'll talk later, honey," Bruce said through his teeth. 

"You know, if you spit me on the face, it would hurt less, _honey_ ," Dick laughed for real.

God, how he hated how much he loved to hear his melodious laugh--fresh and jovial--it was the closest his damned ears would be to listen to an angelic choir.

Fortunately for Bruce, who was avoiding to address the more significant issue regarding Dick, he heard of the nurse's voice calling for him in the corridor. 

"Mr Wayne? Are you there?" She knocked on a door close to where they were. 

"Move," Bruce patted his thigh, and Dick got off his lap instantly. "Stay here," he warned him, just in case Dick wanted to escape through the window. 

"Sure, boss," Dick mumbled, crossing his arms. And as Bruce closed the door behind, only because Dick could be childish like that, he added: "Nowhere else to go, anyway." 

"Mr Wayne, there you are! I have good news for you," she said, smiling.

"Yes?" Bruce said, inviting her to continue before he exploded in apprehensive anxiety. 

"Your son is awake--he's still disoriented, and the doctor hasn’t finished taking his vitals, but you’ll be allowed to see him in less than an hour," she explained. "It's soon to give you solid results, but the doctor thought you should know he's making progress. 

"I can wait. Take all the time you need," Bruce said as he felt life returned to his body. 

Jason was awake. He was alive, breathing with open eyes--the things he took for granted, that now seemed like a miracle. 

"Of course, Mr Wayne," she smiled politely and left. 

"I heard that," Dick said as he peeked his head from the door. "That’s awesome! He's recovering fast--Jay is a tough one," Dick smiled brightly, but his joy met Bruce's severe face.

"Too soon, uh?" Dick said, toning down his smile. "My presence bothers you."

"Confuses me," Bruce rectified him. "But you're no a bother, never have been." Bruce held his gaze to let Dick see that he wasn't lying.

"Then don't treat me like one," Dick grumbled as he leaned on the threshold of the door. 

"It's late. Take a taxi. I'll make sure Alfred's waiting for you with a cup of Earl Grey tea," Bruce said as soft as he could. 

Dick pierced him with sharp, knowing eyes. "You know what's happening to me." There was no questioning in his tone. However, Bruce wouldn't give away anything. He stood there, unreadable as a statue, with no single reaction. 

The problem with dating someone who was trained to read your every move in battle was that they never stopped reading you. And by then, since Dick was clear-minded enough to see through him, it didn't take him aback that Dick suspected him.

Dick smirked. "The Bruce Wayne I know, that obsessive detective, wouldn't be here by Jason's bed if you didn't have a clue of what's happening to me," Dick said with certainty, which hurt. 

It reminded him of the many times he had left Alfred and Dick alone in the hospital--not visiting once--due to his obsession with solving a case. 

"That's irrelevant," he said, not to let the silence sentenced him. 

"Irrelevant my ass, Bruce. Who do you think you are talking to?" Dick raised his voice, closing the distance between them. "I know you to the core, Batman. You are hiding something."

"If you know me that well, Dick, then you know my answer already," Bruce said cut and dry. 

Bruce delivered his words, foreseeing a fight. Despite his predictions, Dick stepped back. He looked thoughtful, assessing his chances of winning this argument. 

"Alright, we'll do it your way," Dick said, implying that he would be a pain on his ass until he figured out what Bruce hid. 

Actually, that option was even more problematic. 

"I'll leave," he kissed his lips. "But I'll come back tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow until you get sick of me, are we clear?"

This brat, Bruce kissed him back. "Call me when you get home."

Dick smiled playfully, "isn't Agent A's report enough for you?" 

His brat, he was a smart one. 

"Intolerable." 


	18. Open Caskets for Cold Cases

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day 👀

**Hospital. June 12, 2:00 AM.**

Bruce saw him as the doors of the elevator closed after him. 

He left Dick in a puddle of uncertainty. As he always did when Dick started to become a nuisance too heavy to carry. But perhaps, Bruce had been right this time. 

He wanted to come back and said to him: "You have no right to put me aside as an inconvenience," but wasn't he worse than that? 

_You tried to kill him. You tried to kill both._

What had he done? The look of fear on Jason’s eyes would be perpetually tattooed on his eyes, equal to the tragic memory of his parent's falling to their deaths.

The elevator opened on the fifth floor. No one came in; The floor was deserted, and no one had been waiting to enter. 

He was alone, and the solitude didn't fit him well. His thoughts were racing, too fast for him to comprehend what he was even thinking. His mind was going too fast, and this elevator too slow.

"Fuck," he cursed, holding onto the walls. Suddenly, the lights were unbearable to his eyes. And the space around him was closing and closing... He needed to get out now! The elevator was going to bury him alive--it was absurd--but it was real to him.

He closed his eyes. _This isn't real. This isn't happening._ It had to be a panic attack. It made sense, as he was scared of Bruce breaking up with him, leaving him behind as he did with all his lovers.

"It's fear. It's a reaction," he talked to himself as he sat on the floor. _Why was this shit so slow?_

"Breath. It isn't real," he soothed himself as he tried to even his breathing. 

The idea of having a full breakdown sounded a lot better than trying to breathe, but he didn’t have that privilege. If he had a breakdown here, someone would take photos, and the press would use them to shame Wayne's last name.

The elevator rang its tune. Finally, he was on the first floor. He precipitated to stand up and leave this damn thing. He wasn't careful to notice the golden flash on his irises, sparkling dark like a bad omen on the polished walls of the elevator. 

Once outside, he breathed deeply. It was just his mind playing games on him, overreacting, exaggerating the circumstances. 

If only his feelings didn't cloud his judgement, he would undoubtedly believe that Bruce was making the right decision. It was better to keep him away. He was the poison who hurt his family; nobody could trust him.

He was lucky, even! Bruce could have kicked him out. It wouldn't be the first time. For his standards, Bruce had been even gentle. For sure, it was a kindness that Dick didn't deserve.

_But he tried. Isn't that what life is? Trying and trying._

He would be fine. He would come back home, call Roy, and then sleep soundly. He didn't even have to worry about insomnia, for Alfred would make sure he slept. 

Dick didn't find in him the will to run away. To escape and hide in Titans Tower. What good was that? He could hurt his friends too. Though an Amazon, a Kryptonian, and a Themascyrian would have better chances of stopping him than Jason ever did. 

Besides, if he left, what possibilities he had for Bruce to forgive him? He didn't want Bruce to give up on what they had, and for that, he couldn't give up on them either. 

Lost on his train of thoughts, he didn't notice someone was walking towards him until he stumbled on her.

"Oh, I’m sorry, it was my fault," Dick looked at her. She was "Selina!"

"Wonder Boy," she winked at him, "it’s been a long time; you’ve grown up, kitten."

"A long, long time..." Dick was perplexed. She looked better than the last time he saw her. "What are you doing here?" The question was abrupt, but his brain wasn’t cooperating to fake politeness.

"What kind of question is that, Dick?" She arched one of her eyebrows, highlighting the shadows of her neat eye makeup. "Same reason you are here. I was with Bruce in the Lake House when he got the news of what happened to Jason."

_She was with him..._

"Really?" Dick asked without concealing his surprise. 

"Just like old times, kitten," she smiled smugly. 

_Together, like old times._ Dick’s brain ran fast, assessing her every word, writing them down in his memory and keeping them in a particular (self-deprecating) place that wasn’t healthy for anyone to have. 

"Ah..." Dick had nothing to say that didn’t include "he hasn’t told you, but he’s with me" or "step aside, bitch, that's my man." And a pair of other immature insults he was motivated to say. But he opted to save himself from the humiliation and shut up.

But the issue was that Dick didn’t know what Bruce's verdict would be after he was done thinking. His Bruce, his beloved partner. He was the type of men who would deny himself happiness out of loyalty to the ones he loved. If Jason couldn't forgive him, then his Fate was sealed. 

If Bruce had no choice but to finish their relationship--

"Don’t act so surprised. You know the Bat can’t stay away from Cat," the smile on her lips suddenly started to enrage Dick. Little by little, like the countdown of a (very explosive) bomb.

Considering his latest rage issues, imagining her smile on blood and broken teeth was a bad sign and his signal to go.

"I was just leaving, so... it’s nice to see you again, Selina," Dick forced one of his big smiles and left with quick feet. 

_Together in the Lake House. She came to support him. That bitch--No, breathe. Don't hurt more people._

Jealousy was graceless quality for a lover to have.

_Breathe. Slow down._

Dick stepped outside with trembling legs. It was cold, and Gotham didn’t fail to offer dramatic cinematic effects with its gelid winds and light rain. 

**[. . .]**

He didn't take a cab.

Instead, he looked for a phone booth. In a typical manner for a stormy night, he had forgotten his phone in the Manor. But he recalled Roy's number like the back of his hand.

Roy didn't answer his phone. It was another sign of a typical lousy night. 

[Voice message: Hey, Roy, it's me! Who else would call you this late? Oh, yeah... Chesire... well, my Chesire and I are going through a rough patch--Listen, man, I'm gonna be honest. I'm not okay, and it's not Bruce's fault. It's something else. I need to talk to you, okay? In-person, please? Use the Zeta-Tube--I know, I know, it's just for missions, I made the rule but, Roy--damn it, I'm crying. Come to Gotham, don't you worry about Donna getting mad. I'll explain to her, okay? Call me.]

_It's alright. Just keep breathing. In and out. I'll be fine._

**[. . .]**

The rain poured down on him as he walked at a slow pace. Wayne Enterprises was close, and in the parking lot, he would find one of Bruce's car. 

He wandered, gaining time to clear his mind, as he played on repeat that Bruce was right, he was doing this for everyone's safety. 

_It’s alright, he doesn’t hate me, he didn’t break up with me... he just needs... space._

Space. What an ugly word. Who needed space? Bruce didn’t. He said he liked to be alone to think--what a blatant lie. Batman needed Robin, and Bruce needed his family. 

Why did he ask him to leave when Selena was here, taking unnecessary space? _Oh, yes, I injured Jason. It was me, not her._

Nevertheless, she didn't have a right to be there by Bruce's side, pretending to support him. She wasn’t family, she didn’t wear his colours, she wasn’t a Bat, she hadn’t fought by his side every bloody night, and she hadn’t risked her life to save his. And she would never do it because she didn’t love him, not like Dick did. 

She didn’t deserve his place. She was a thief, a con-woman, nothing but a liar. 

"Ahhh, damn it," he cried out as he kicked a piece of trash. The can of soda hit the wall of a store and then fell to the ground. The intensity of his hit helped him remember that he wasn't supposed to get angry.

 _It triggers me..._ He laughed. That was what he did when all things went wrong, he laughed to ease his excruciating emotional pain. 

"Shit," he said, unashamed of how his tears ran through his face. He was all alone on the Avenue, anyway. Not even criminals wandered the streets with heavy rain. 

It was then that he noticed that the streets lights were flickering, on and off. 

The goosebumps on his skin--that innate sixth sense that he possessed--alerted him that it was a good time to rush. If he wanted to cry, he would have a dry and warm place to do it inside a fancy car. 

So he walked faster, the damped clothes growing more uncomfortable with each step. 

Just a little more. He was only ten minutes away. He would find a nice car, drive home and take a hot bath--

Lights off. 

The vastness of darkness enveloped the street as the rain poured heavier with revamped intent.

"What the hell?" Apparently, the night had other plans for him. 

_Run, Grayson, run._ His mind was right, yet his feet stood paralysed as he waited for something to happen. 

As expected, in the classic style of Gotham’s villains, they didn’t make him wait. 

"Mr Grayson," said a faceless voice. Whoever was talking, they were standing in the dark.

Dick took a look at his sides and backwards. He was surrounded by people wearing white masks, like the ones he had seen in his dreams.

He hesitated to move. It wasn’t going to be an easy escape. First, he was in bad shape, still riding the after-effects of the substance Alfred injected him with. And second, his emotions were all over the place, slowing him down. 

"Well, well, isn’t it a good night for a meeting, folks?" He chuckled, playing it cool. Opposite to how he felt inside. Why didn’t they leave him alone? He was in the middle of a breakdown. All he wanted was to hide his face in a pillow and cry. 

"Mr Grayson, the Court of Owls have requested your presence," finally, the person hiding showed himself. Or at least, he showed his mouth as the rest of his face was covered in a light brown Owl mask. 

The Court. The Court. "Talon, remember, you serve no Court," his mother had told him... in a dream? Were those really dreams, or were they repressed memories? 

"Look, guys, I don’t know who you are or why you want me so much but take a spot on the line. I’m pretty busy tonight," he tried to sound amused, but his banter didn’t have the same effect when he wasn’t wearing his Nightwing suit.

Though he did hear one of them repressed a snort. Good sign. One of them was still human.

"Mr Grayson, you seem to believe you have the power to question destiny—"

Whatever. Dick laughed, interrupting him. He had heard enough villains talking prophetic bullshit. For better or for worse, he just couldn’t take them seriously anymore.

"Oh, fuck you, what—"

The subtle pinch of an injection.

 _Again, really?_ Sometimes Dick couldn’t believe his bad luck.

As his mind went black and his surrounding faded into darkness, there was one undeniable truth, among all of them, tonight Dick was not going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, subscriptions motivate me 💙🖤

**Author's Note:**

> **  
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> 💙


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